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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25680613">Pinky Promise</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/etymolodrarry/pseuds/etymolodrarry'>etymolodrarry</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/huffinglepuff/pseuds/huffinglepuff'>huffinglepuff</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Fluff and Angst, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mentor Remus Lupin, Not Canon Compliant, Past Abuse, Pining, Rescuing Harry Potter, Trigger warning: abuse, and going and going and going, and then we just kept going, forgot to tag that, oh also theres wolfstar, this was meant to be a short tumblr blurb, trigger warning: self harm, we do not stan that manipulative dumblewhore, wolfstar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:27:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>19,512</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25680613</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/etymolodrarry/pseuds/etymolodrarry, https://archiveofourown.org/users/huffinglepuff/pseuds/huffinglepuff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus Lupin was an observant professor. He knew how it felt to be ignored, so he gave special care to pay attention to his students—not only in regards to their studies, but to their mental health, too.</p><p>Remus Lupin was the first person to notice what Harry was hiding, and he was the first adult to care enough to do something about it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sirius Black/Remus Lupin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>86</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>888</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>TW: mentions of past abuse, self harm, and the briefest mention of blood.<br/><br/>Based on the dialogue prompt, "Were you ever going to tell me?" and a tumblr post (linked at the end!)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>A: HARRY</strong>
</p><p>Remus had spent <em> years </em> being injured—whether he was covered in bruises and cuts, or limping around the castle—but despite being awful at hiding it, nobody noticed. Of course, the teachers <em> knew </em> he was a werewolf, so perhaps the injuries had made sense to them. To his knowledge, however, no one noticed when James would hide a Quidditch injury so he could take notes for Remus after a full moon, nor did anyone notice when Sirius began cutting his wrists in fourth year. Remus remembered how he’d wince as the scabs stretched and cracked, and how he’d scratch incessantly at the scars once they’d formed.</p><p>He knew how it felt to be ignored, so when he started teaching, he vowed to pay the utmost attention to his students—not only in regards to their studies, but to their mental health, too. Remus was lucky that his students trusted him enough to confide in him, <em> and </em> he was lucky that they almost always took his advice to speak to their heads of houses—he’d only had to personally report two students so far. </p><p>Perhaps it wasn’t surprising when, during a duel with Draco, Remus noticed almost immediately when Harry was injured.</p><p>Remus frowned as he watched Harry and Draco throw curses at each other in the middle of the room. They were both very good for their age—Draco was using very advanced hexes (Remus was sure that he read about the subject almost as much as Hermione), and while Harry didn’t use any that hadn’t been taught in a previous defence class, he made up for it in speed and skill. Remus itched to interrupt and stop Harry from getting injured—he reminded him so much of James, and looked <em> so small </em> —but he reminded himself that this wasn’t his fight, no matter <em> how </em> odd Harry had been acting recently. Despite defence being his favourite subject, Remus often saw that his eyes were glazed over, or he didn’t show any expression at various graphic details of curses and animals that Remus described, even as the rest of the class shuddered.</p><p>The other students were <em> supposed </em> to be practising, but Remus couldn’t fault them for watching the veritable light display between the two students. Harry flinched as a flash of pale green light grazed his left wrist, but continued to fire hexes without missing a beat. He started favoring his right arm, clutching his robes so it would cover the injury. Remus' lips thinned as he watched—neither of them were winning this, and Harry was clearly hiding the injury to keep him from calling it off. After all, it <em> was </em> the rule to call a time-out when someone was injured. But Remus was the professor, and he was much more observant than Harry realized. </p><p>There was a reason that certain students would find chocolate bar on their desk during a particularly bad day, or why certain students got an encouraging message at the top of their essays; because Remus noticed when they'd fidget with their sleeves, pulling them down to hide their wrists; when they'd scratch at their arms and upper thighs through their robes, when they weren't able to concentrate from anxiety or when their eyes were red from crying. </p><p>“Alright, that’s enough for now.” Remus clapped his hands together. Harry rolled as Draco fired one last hex at him, easily standing again. Both of them were drenched in sweat, their hair plastered to their head and panting. Draco sneered before going back to his goons—<em> what was his problem? </em>—and Harry made to return to his friends, but Remus approached him before he could. </p><p>“Hi, Professor,” Harry was still breathing hard, his gaze unfocused and vaguely directed towards Remus, not quite meeting his eyes.</p><p>“Your arm, Harry?” Remus spoke in a low voice, holding his hand out.</p><p>“What?” He lifted his right arm and inspected it before looking back to Remus, who was looking pointedly at his <em> left </em> arm. Harry held it up to the light, letting his ripped robes fall away to reveal the little cut on his arm—it was probably only an inch or two long, but quite deep. Remus started to move to heal it, but stopped as Harry squeezed the wound, allowing a bead of blood to gather, before gently patting it dry with practised ease, his expression not changing at all. </p><p>“I could have healed that, you know.” Remus frowned as slightly disoriented green eyes looked up at him.</p><p>“It doesn’t need healing, really.” He shrugged and wiped his bloody fingers on his robes, turning away to go to his friends. Remus’ hand twitched, as he almost reached out to grab Harry’s shoulder, but he suddenly realised that they still had fifteen minutes of the lesson to go. Resolving to speak to him straight after class, he addressed the rest of the class.</p><p>“I only told <em> them </em> to stop, not everyone else.” </p><p>A quiet murmur of <em> “sorry, professor” </em>rippled through the class, as they turned to their respective partners and halfheartedly started firing hexes again. Remus’ gaze remained steadily fixed on Harry, who wasn’t checking his wound as most people would, but rather leaning against the wall and watching his friends duel. A quick glance to the other side of the room revealed Draco to be doing the same—but then again, <em> he </em>wasn’t injured. Or hiding it even better than Harry, which based upon the way he reacted to the hippogriff scratching him, wasn’t likely.</p><p>“—Mr. Potter, could I speak to you?” </p><p>Harry turned, surprised at the sound of his surname leaving Remus’ lips. He dipped his chin before waving to his friends. “Go ahead, I’ll catch up.” He stayed at his desk, taking special care to organize all of his notes before shoving them in his bag.</p><p>“Harry,” Remus said gently, holding his hand out once more. “I’d like to heal your arm.”</p><p>“I said it’s fine,” he protested, “really, it’s not bleeding anymore and it doesn’t even hurt.”</p><p>Remus suppressed an eye roll. “You realize we are <em> wizards, </em> right? We can <em> heal </em> wounds instead of waiting for them to do so on their own.” Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Remus interrupted him. “ <em> Please, </em> Harry. Besides, I’m quite adept at healing magical injuries, <em> indulge </em> me.”</p><p>Harry sighed and begrudgingly held out his arm. He’d repaired the cloak, so his sleeve covered the injury perfectly. </p><p>Remus rolled up the sleeve to examine Harry’s smooth, unblemished skin, and ran his thumb over the scab that had already formed. He frowned as he considered how to heal it. He opted for a quick Suture charm, as it would leave minimal scarring—though it’d be small, a scar would certainly stand out on Harry’s dark skin. </p><p><em> “Carnes Consuo,” </em>Remus flicked his wand and furrowed his brow when nothing happened. The Suture charm <em> was </em> sensitive to magic—residual spellfire from his duel was likely the culprit—a <em> finite </em> should do the trick. </p><p>His eyes widened as the glamour faded, revealing a forearm that was <em> covered </em> in lighter colored splotches. Most of the scars were small, but there was a large one wrapped around his wrist where the skin had puckered and taken on a rough texture. “ <em> Carnes Consuo," R</em>emus cast again, and Harry didn’t even flinch as the wound ripped open before being sewn shut by an invisible thread.</p><p>“Thanks, Professor,” Harry mumbled. He turned to grab his bag, but Remus tightened his grip on his arm to stop him. Remus tried to look him in the eye, but Harry had turned his face away when he’d felt the glamour charm vanish, as if he <em> knew </em> what—</p><p>“Do you know what I’m about to ask you, Harry?”</p><p>Harry looked up, and finally—<em> finally, </em> his eyes weren’t glassy, they weren’t unfocused—he was actually <em> seeing </em> Remus this time, only his eyes were filled with fear. “Er, no?”</p><p>“Yes, you do.” Remus studied the hypertrophic scars riddling Harry’s skin, “I’m about to ask you about these scars on your arm,” he said gently.</p><p>“They’re nothing,” Harry said quickly, “they’re just from dueling, from spells gone wrong and stuff.” He tried for an awkward laugh, but it quickly died in his throat. “<em> Really </em>, that’s all they are…”</p><p>“Harry, you don’t think I’m <em> stupid</em>, do you?” </p><p>His eyes widened at the question. “No, of course not, why would you—”</p><p>“Then perhaps you should come up with a better story as to how you got these?” He raised an eyebrow, “These are <em> obviously </em> burn marks, and I don’t recall you having the same proclivity for pyrotechnics as Mr. Finnegan,” he ran a fingers over one of the scars, “and they’re <em> old—</em>these look to be at <em> least </em> four years old? <em> Maybe </em> five?” </p><p>A choked sound came out of Harry’s mouth as his mind scrambled for an excuse, but there were none. All these years of trying <em> so hard </em> to hide everything was about to come crashing down—all because of a simple cutting curse. <em> Damn it, Malfoy. </em></p><p>“You know you can tell me anything,” Remus stared into his eyes, and Harry would’ve suspected him of using Legilimency if he hadn’t trusted Remus wholeheartedly. “I’ll tell you what,” he said, finally releasing Harry’s arm. “I’ll share a scar, you share a scar, deal?” Before Harry could answer, he pointed to a thin white scratch across his palm. “When I was ten, I got this one from climbing a chain link fence to get away some kids that were chasing me,” he lifted his sleeve and chuckled, pointing to a thick scar on his elbow. “I got this one in my fifth year during a prank. We were going to charm all of the books to scream when you opened them, but your <em>fa</em><em>ther t</em>ripped over the cloak and all of the shelves came crashing down like dominoes.” He rolled his eyes. “You have no <em> idea </em> what it took to get out of there without getting caught.”</p><p>The corner of Harry’s mouth twitched, but the brief glimpse of emotion quickly vanished. <em> I’m not getting out of this one, am I? </em>He sighed before holding out his hand. “This is from the Basilisk in second year,” he showed Remus the half-moon shaped scar left by the Basilisk fang, “and this one is from when Aunt Marge’s dogs were chasing me, and I had to climb a tree to get away.” Now that he’d started, there was no going back.</p><p>Remus stared in horror as Harry told story after story, in an almost monotone voice his eyes slowly becoming unfocused again with every word; he gestured to a a jagged scar going down the outside of his upper arm, “this one was from that time Dudley slammed me into a tree. And this,” he gestured to the horrid burn mark on his wrist, “was when I spilt hot oil on myself because ‘<em>Dudders wants freshly fried chips.' </em>” He looked willing to go on, peering at his arm with something akin to morbid curiosity, but Remus cut him off.</p><p>“I—” Remus swallowed. “<em>Were you ever going to tell me? </em>”</p><p>“Probably not.” Remus’ heart broke as Harry shrugged and looked at his feet. “I deserve it, anyways. I’m a freak, it’s not really a big deal.”</p><p>“You’re not a freak.” Remus protested, trying to bring a bit of light, emotion, <em> anything </em> into those green eyes.</p><p>“Aren’t relatives supposed to love you?”</p><p>Remus frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean—”</p><p>“They <em> didn’t</em>. Must’ve needed a good reason for that.”</p><p>“No, Harry, that’s not right. They <em> knew </em> that you had magic, and were jealous, or…” Remus faltered, looking for a reason for why this broken boy would be so unloved. Nobody could be <em> that </em> heartless, could they? And yet, looking at Harry’s arm, dangling by his side, his words echoing through Remus’ head—even the <em> Death Eaters </em> weren’t that bad. He must have been young for the marks to have healed so much. And they hadn’t been treated, either—when Remus was young, he went to a muggle primary school, and once fell on the tarmac. The teachers had bandaged his knees, and they’d healed with a couple of scars that barely stood out. Granted, that was ages ago, but after years of cutting himself open with his own nails, he considered himself somewhat of an expert on wounds and how they healed. </p><p>“Or I’m <em> right</em>. They were malicious, and cruel, but I was their blood—or Petunia’s, at least, and she treated me as badly as Vernon and Dudley did.”</p><p>Remus frantically searched Harry’s face for an emotion, <em> any </em> emotion, but all he found there was grim acceptance. He sighed internally—Harry wasn’t going to see reason any time soon. Maybe, though, he could get him out of this horrible situation. James and Lily were his <em> best </em> friends—he’d do anything for them <em> or </em> their child. “I want to get you out of there,” he said quietly.</p><p>“What?” Harry frowned. “No, it’s alright, it really isn’t that bad anymore. I even—” Harry cut himself off, as if trying to decide whether or not to continue. “They even gave me Dudley’s second bedroom,” he mumbled, “when I started at Hogwarts.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, what was that?”</p><p>Harry wouldn’t meet Remus' eyes. “They gave me Dudley’s second bedroom when I started here.” </p><p>“Harry,” Remus said gently, “where was your bedroom before that?”</p><p>“Um,” He looked to the floor, “I had a cupboard,”</p><p>“You had a <em> cupboard?” </em>Remus hissed, but quickly lowered his voice when Harry flinched. “You <em> have </em> to know that isn’t normal, right?" His voice was becoming desperate, but Harry only shrugged. “You <em> know </em> that isn’t normal, because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be ashamed—am I right?”</p><p>Harry shook his head. “No, I—I’m ashamed because—” his voice cracked, “because I’m a <em> freak, </em> and I <em> deserved it, </em> I’m ashamed because being in that cupboard means something was wrong with me,” he swallowed, “and it still is.”</p><p>A pain lodged in Remus' throat as he watched Harry stare at the floor, fidgeting with his robes. “You are <em> not </em> a freak,” he said again, wishing that he’d believe it. He placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder and waited for his reaction—when Harry didn’t flinch away, Remus pulled him into a hug. </p><p>Harry froze as Remus wrapped his arms around him, but he relaxed after a few moments. <em> This isn’t all that bad, </em> Harry thought, for there was a small inkling of warmth in his mind—something he hadn’t felt in <em> months </em>. It was actually quite nice; it was no wonder why Dudley let Aunt Petunia shower him with hugs and kisses, despite his obvious embarrassment.</p><p>“There is <em> nothing </em> wrong with you,” Remus murmured, stroking his hair. “Let me ask you something. If they put you in that cupboard because you were a <em> freak, </em> because there was something <em> wrong </em> with you,” he leaned back, holding Harry at arms length, “then what changed when they moved you to that bedroom?” He watched as Harry furrowed his brow, but then—oh <em> no </em>—his lower lip began to waver. </p><p>“Shh, shh, it’s alright,” Remus whispered as Harry threw his arms around his middle and started crying. “Don’t worry, just get it all out.”</p><p>It had been <em> ages </em> since he’d cried— <em> truly </em> cried—he’d been numb for far too long. “I’m s—sorry,” he sniffled, “I got your robes wet.” His face reddened, and he tried to turn away.</p><p>“No bother,” Remus said easily, pulling his wand from his sleeve to cast a quick drying charm. “Is there any chance that you <em> believe </em>me now?” </p><p>Harry shook his head, but he laughed, which sent fresh tears down his face. “You do have a point.”</p><p>Remus handed him a conjured tissue before kissing his hair. “I have a favor to ask you,” he said, and Harry raised his eyebrows. “Will you live with me this summer?”</p><p>“L—<em> live? </em>With <em> you? </em>” Harry seemed to be torn between disbelief and doubt. “But what about the—Dumbledore said I had to stay at the Dursley’s—”</p><p>Remus frowned. “Why did he say that?”</p><p>“He said there was some sort of—of magic on the house,” Harry shrugged, “that I had to be there to keep me safe from Voldemort—” he paused to dry his tears with the tissue, “but if he—if he <em> knows </em> about—”</p><p>“Hey,” Remus interrupted, “I don’t give a <em> damn </em> what Dumbledore says. You’re living with me this summer, you hear me?” He held his hand up, sticking his pinky out. “I pinky promise you.”</p><p>Harry stared at his hand for a moment before nodding frantically, linking pinkies with Remus. He burst into tears again, shaking from the force of them, and Remus quickly wrapped him in his arms again, rubbing his back in circles. “<em> Thank you,” </em> his voice was muffled by Remus’ robes. </p><p>“Anything for you, Harry,” Remus answered, “I’m going to get you out of there, I promise.”</p>
<hr/><p>Remus stormed to Dumbledore’s office, shouting the password at the gargoyle before he’d even reached it. <em> Maybe he doesn’t know </em> , Remus reminded himself as he hurried up the steps, <em> Maybe he trusts them and didn’t even consider that they might be abusing Harry </em>.</p><p>“Remus, my boy, how are you?” Dumbledore seemed delighted to see him, even as Remus’ hands clenched and unclenched by his sides, his nails digging in more each time.</p><p>“I’m fine, Headmaster—but I’m not here for me. Did you know about Harry’s home situation?”</p><p>“What about it?” Dumbledore leaned forwards in his chair, seemingly perplexed.</p><p>“He’s being <em> abused</em>. He’s got scars all over his arms, from them <em> beating </em> him, and not sending him to doctors, and forcing him to cook when he’s really young—”</p><p>“Yes, it’s truly terrible.”</p><p>Remus had started pacing as he spoke, but stopped dead at Dumbledore’s words and his nonchalant tone. He turned, his body unnaturally still. His voice was unusually low as he growled, “<em>Y</em><em>ou knew? </em>”</p><p>“I suspected. They’re not the…nicest of people.” Dumbledore frowned.</p><p>“And <em> you left him in there? </em>” Remus knew, objectively, that he couldn’t turn into a wolf unless it was the full moon, but he was feeling pretty damn close to it now.</p><p>“Well, you see, when Lily died to protect him, she endowed a special type of counter-charm on him—Sacrificial Protection, which offers him strong protection against Voldemort and his followers—but for the charm to work, he <em> must </em> live with a member of Lily’s  bloodline—Petunia Dursley. It’s just until he’s seventeen, in any case.”</p><p>“Those wards may protect him from Voldemort,” Remus hissed, “but they won’t mean <em> shit </em> if he <em> kills himself! </em>”</p><p>“Don’t you think he’d come to one of us, first?” Dumbledore folded his hands together, “Such as his Head of House, or myself?”</p><p>“You really don’t know what it's like, do you?” Remus looked away in disbelief, trying to blink away the angry tears that filled his eyes, “You don’t know what it’s <em> like </em> to watch someone <em> give up </em> —if Harry hasn’t even confided in his <em> friends </em> about this, do you <em> really think </em> he’d go to the man who put him in this situation to begin with?” </p><p>Dumbledore looked at him over the top of his half-moon glasses. “Remus, you’re interfering with affairs you don’t understand. Please trust me when I say I know what’s best for Harry.”</p><p>“<em> You </em> —Harry—Dursley’s—<em>abusive</em>—” Remus spluttered as his mind whirled with accusations and a massive urge to hurl everything in this stupid office at Dumbledore and just take his cub and <em> leave </em> . He took a deep breath and tried again. “The Dursley’s are <em> abusing </em> Harry,” he managed to say. </p><p>Dumbledore assumed his holier-than-thou expression (<em>really, that man should have been a Slytherin</em>) and waited a beat before responding. “Perhaps we should revisit this subject later, when you’re feeling less emotional,” he suggested, as if he was giving Remus a choice.</p><p>Remus stared at him in disbelief before forcing himself to turn towards the door.</p><p>“I’m glad you’ve seen reason,” Dumbledore said as Remus stepped out of the room, and it took all of his concentration not to turn around and punch the man in the face then and there for<em> hurting his cub</em>, on<em> purpose</em>, all for a protective charm that<em> might not even work. </em>This was <em>not </em>what Lily had had in mind when she sacrificed herself; he just knew it. </p><p>It was fine, really. If Dumbledore wanted to play this game, then so be it—he’d just have to learn how to play.</p>
<hr/><p>Harry’s heart was lighter than it had felt in a long time as he left the defence classroom. He was practically floating as he went to talk to Ron and Hermione, dismissing their concerns with a shake of his head and a smile and a <em> ‘don’t worry about it.' </em>Because really, they didn’t need to worry now, did they? Professor Lupin was going to get him out. They didn’t need to know.</p><p>But a day passed, and then two, and Harry’s heart sank. Professor Lupin sent him small smiles in the class, but no more than he sent to anyone else. He didn’t pull Harry aside after class to tell him any news, and around the third day Harry realised what had happened.</p><p><em> It was all an empty promise</em>.</p><p>The realisation had him excusing himself from dinner, and almost sprinting to the showers, because no one needed to see him cry. Not that anyone would worry about him, anyways. </p><p>Everyone was down at dinner, so he quickly locked the bathroom door and practically fell into the shower, switching on the water and sitting under it with his clothes still on. They clung to his skin as salty tears mixed in with the hot water, trickling down his face.</p><p>He didn’t know why this affected him so much. When had adults <em> ever </em> done anything other than let him down? He really should have expected this—he should never have <em> hoped </em> , for even a second, that he would be able to <em> leave </em> , that he would be <em> free </em>. He shouldn’t have put such stock in adults—even if Remus had been nothing but kind. At the end of the day, he was just another adult. Harry had put such faith in Dumbledore his first year—and the old man had sent him right back where he came from. He’d overheard the whispered conversations between Madame Pomfrey and Dumbledore about his home life, yet he’d been sent back anyway. </p><p>
  <em> So much for that pinky promise. </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Remus rubbed his eyes and stretched, pushing his chair away from his desk. A quick </span>
  <em>
    <span>tempus</span>
  </em>
  <span> revealed the time to be 2 AM—he’d better get to sleep if he was going to be able to function as anything more than an Inferius during his classes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three sleepless nights, and he had virtually nothing to show for it. Dumbledore was Harry’s Magical Authority. Without his support, the only way to transfer custody would be to get Harry emancipated. That definitely wouldn’t work—to be emancipated, the minor had to prove they were better off without a legal guardian. Sure, Harry clearly </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> better off without the Dursleys, but it’d be impossible to prove that Harry’s better off without Dumbledore. Harry grew up in the muggle world, after all; he certainly couldn’t act as his </span>
  <em>
    <span>own</span>
  </em>
  <span> Magical Authority.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus closed the tome he’d been rifling through for the past hour. Despite being a detailed review of Wizarding Custody Laws, it hadn’t given him any answers. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe I should just find a solicitor.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He sighed internally; </span>
  <em>
    <span>no, that might attract </span>
  </em>
  <span>too</span>
  <em>
    <span> much attention. The last thing Harry needs is </span>
  </em>
  <span>more </span>
  <em>
    <span>publicity.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He shoved the tome to the side and reached for another one—a thin, leather-bound book he’d borrowed from the Ministry’s library. Remus had quickly found, to his dismay, that Hogwarts didn’t have a very large collection of legal texts, and had had to turn to external sources. He frowned as he scanned the table of contents; he didn’t recognize many of the titles from the previous books. One chapter caught his eye: </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Role of Godparents in Wizarding Britain</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Right, that makes sense,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Remus thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>in the muggle world, godparents are purely religious, but to wizards, they’re important enough to be added to family trees… </span>
  </em>
  <span>He quickly flipped to the page and squinted, struggling to read the tiny text.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Section 54.L.08 of the Wizarding Custody Jurisdiction Act enables the chosen godparents to gain custody of a child if their Wizarding blood-relatives have passed or are otherwise incapacitated. In cases where the child has a third-party Magical Authority, the child and godparent(s) must petition for a transfer of custody.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Damn,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Remus thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>if only Sirius wasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes widened. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Godparents, </span>
  </em>
  <span>plural. The custom was to appoint only </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> godparent to each child, which meant… the second godparent was by </span>
  <em>
    <span>marriage</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Sirius and Remus were married. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Remus was Harry’s godfather by marriage.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>That was the answer, then. He quickly copied down the details—he’d have to contact the Lineage division of the Ministry to get the required forms and set up a court date. He debated sending an owl right then and there, but—</span>
  <em>
    <span>no, I should ask Harry first.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Even though he was certain Harry would say yes, it was important that Remus didn’t act behind his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then there was the issue of—</span>
  <em>
    <span>shit,</span>
  </em>
  <span> his condition would </span>
  <em>
    <span>certainly</span>
  </em>
  <span> affect his chances of getting custody… would the Ministry </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> transfer custody of The Boy Who Lived to that of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>werewolf?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It was highly unlikely, but he’d have to try. For Harry, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> try.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Harry, could you—” Remus tried to catch Harry after class, but the boy had sat as close to the door as possible, and slipped out of the classroom as soon as the students were dismissed. Remus frowned as he watched the rest of the third years filter out of the room—he didn’t want to follow Harry through the hallways, so he’d just have to watch the Map to see where he went.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” Remus tapped the Map with his wand and smiled wistfully as the familiar handwritings appeared across the parchment. Defense was taught on the third floor, so Harry must be… yes, there he was. Surprisingly, he wasn’t heading to the Gryffindor tower for his free period; instead, he was already walking through the quad, probably to sit by the Great Lake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though he had </span>
  <em>
    <span>plenty</span>
  </em>
  <span> of papers to grade, Remus opted to draft a letter to the Ministry while waiting for Harry’s name to stop moving. He’d only written a few sentences when it did—Harry had to have hurried to get there so quickly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hastily folded up the Map and organized the papers strewn across his desk with a flick of his wand before warding his office shut and heading down to the Lake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus frowned as he approached Harry, who was sitting on a bench overlooking the water, arms wrapped around his legs and head balanced on his knees. He wasn’t wearing a cloak, despite the April chill that lingered on the grounds, and Remus felt his gut twist as he realised </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Sirius used to do the same thing while they were in school, before he ran away, and sometimes even after—on those nights when he couldn’t seem to feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’d venture outside and look over the lake, letting the wind rush through his robes until he had goosebumps. Remus’ heart ached as he remembered the conversation that led to him finding out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite Remus' quiet footsteps, Harry seemed to sense his presence, his shoulders stiffening almost imperceptibly. Otherwise, he stayed impossibly still, keeping his eyes focused on the water as Remus tentatively sat next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry?” Remus spoke gently, glad to see Harry look to the side without turning his head, watching Remus warily—at least he wasn’t being ignored. “Are you alright?” Remus knew the answer, of course, but it was still an important question to ask. He waited until Harry gave a halfhearted shrug before continuing. “I spoke to Headmaster Dumbledore,” he said carefully, studying Harry for a reaction, “and he’s refusing to remove you from the Dursleys, unfortunately,” Remus faltered slightly as he saw the last of Harry’s hope vanish—he hadn’t even seen it until it was gone—before determinedly pressing ahead, “but listen, if you still want to live with me—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus paused as Harry turned to him, his brow furrowed. “Live with you?” He spoke slowly, as if forming the words took a lot of effort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah, live with me,” Remus affirmed. “Or we could get you emancipated,” he added quickly, when Harry didn’t react, “but it would take longer and the process is much more complex…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If—if Dumbledore said no,” Harry began, “how would I live with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe I</span>
  <em>
    <span> finally</span>
  </em>
  <span> found a loophole—Dumbledore is your Magical Authority, you see, but—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that why you didn’t say anything?” He asked in a small voice, staring at his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus suppressed a yawn and rubbed his eyes. “Yeah,” he said, “after my conversation with Dumbledore went poorly, I decided to find you an alternate solution.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nodded, and suddenly he seemed to be blinking very rapidly. “What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>technically</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m your godfather, and if both of us petition for it, we can get your guardianship transferred over to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> my godfather?” Harry asked in confusion. “But—Sirius Black—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>married,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Harry,” Remus said with a sigh. This was going to bring on a whole slew of questions—after all, Harry only knew that Sirius was a convicted murderer—what was he going to think about Remus being </span>
  <em>
    <span>married </span>
  </em>
  <span>to the man who’d essentially </span>
  <em>
    <span>killed</span>
  </em>
  <span> his parents?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the right words. Remus braced himself for the worst—but it never came. “If we petition—would you—you’d be—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d be adopting you, Harry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes bugged out in the first true display of emotion Remus had seen from him in days. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Adopt me?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus cleared his throat. “Well, yeah, if you’re comfortable with</span>
  <em>
    <span>—Harry?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Remus scooted closer to Harry on the bench as the boy looked up at him, his eyes brimming with tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought—” he swallowed hard, and the words caught in his throat, “I thought you’d changed your mind,” he whispered. “I thought you didn’t want me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Harry." </span>
  </em>
  <span>Something in Remus' chest twisted, the emotion catching in his throat and causing his words to become a harsh whisper. "Of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course </span>
  </em>
  <span>I want you. Why wouldn’t I?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t say that.” Any of Remus’ inhibitions disappeared at the sob that wracked Harry’s frame, and he stretched his arm around, pulling Harry into his side. Harry stiffened for a moment, and Remus felt a beat of panic course through his body, but just as quickly Harry relaxed and tucked himself into Remus’ side. He was so small—and he’d been through so much. “You’re smart, and kind, and generous, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>strong</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Don’t—don’t ever doubt that I love you. Nothing could </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever </span>
  </em>
  <span>change my mind about that—I pinky promised, didn’t I? And I </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> break a pinky promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus felt tears dampen his shirt, and they sat there for a while, in comfortable silence, listening to the gentle lapping of the waves and soaking the last dregs of the sun as it sank below the horizon, turning the sky from a soft orange to a bruised purple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you still love him?" Harry asked softly, as the sun disappeared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sirius?" Remus said, not quite knowing what to say, as the question took him by surprise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I—" Remus sighed. "I can’t say. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate </span>
  </em>
  <span>him for what he’s done—betraying your parents, after all that time together—after James’ parents took him under their </span>
  <em>
    <span>roof</span>
  </em>
  <span>—but I can’t connect the idea of his actions with </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The version of Sirius I knew—the version I love—he’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> betray your parents. Or anyone. He’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>die</span>
  </em>
  <span> before betraying them. That version of Sirius promised me that we’d always be together—he’s the one who started the pinky promises, and he’s the reason I’ve never broken one. But he…”</span>
  <em>
    <span> But he broke his promise</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry must have heard the unheard ending, as he hummed into Remus’ sweater.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What would you do if you saw him? Now?” Harry’s voice sounded small.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Protect you.” Remus avoided the answer he hoped Harry didn’t want—he really didn’t think he could kill Sirius, even after everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently satisfied with Remus’ answers, Harry relaxed, shivering slightly. Remus abruptly realised it was almost completely dark, and he and Harry had missed dinner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on. We can have dinner in my rooms and discuss what to do next.” Remus stood, and held out his hand, grinning perhaps a little </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> much when Harry took it, even if only to allow himself to be pulled off the bench.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus couldn’t stop smiling the whole way up to the castle. In the little glances he stole of Harry, he saw that a soft smile played around the boy’s lips as well.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>After that night, Harry and Remus agreed to meet four nights a week, to go over legal documents. The wizarding legal system was </span>
  <em>
    <span>horribly</span>
  </em>
  <span> inefficient; a request to change custody involved at least three different departments within the Ministry, and there were no set rules for </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> the request would be approved or denied. Then, if the request was approved by all relevant departments, there would be a court date with </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> paperwork, and finally an inquiry by a social worker. After </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>of that, if the custody status wasn’t updated on </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ministry documents within a month of the approval date, the custody change would be rendered void. Mercifully, the Ministry </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> have protocol for cases involving neglect and abuse: neither the legal guardians nor the Magical Authority would be involved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...and then all we have to do is present that to the Wizengamot, and it’ll all be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Throughout Professor Lupin’s lengthy explanation, Harry’s stomach had been churning. He looked down at his mashed potatoes, and felt nausea roil in his stomach. He couldn’t possibly expect Professor Lupin to go through all this for </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>—it would have been bad enough just giving him a place to live, but Harry could have earned his keep, cleaning and cooking and utilising all those skills he’d learned at the Dursley’s. But this much…to repay</span>
  <em>
    <span> this much,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he could never do it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry, are you okay? I know it’s a lot to take in, but I’m sure we’ll manage. I’ll make sure you’re not stuck back in that awful place ever again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—I really appreciate this, and all, but it’s an awful lot of effort for me. I haven’t even earned it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean earn—never mind that. Have you </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen</span>
  </em>
  <span> your situation? It’s appalling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, yes, but…” Harry sighed. He knew, deep down, that he hadn’t done anything to earn anything better. “I kind of deserve it, don’t I? I’m a freak, after all.” Harry shrugged and shoveled a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. Nausea be damned—Professor Lupin shouldn’t worry about him more than he had to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry, you’re not a freak. If you </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>a freak, then we’d all be freaks, too.” Harry stiffened at the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘freak</span>
  </em>
  <span>,’ not really wanting to flinch at the word. It was stupid, he knew; </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> could say the word, but no one else could. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re </span>
  </em>
  <span>not all freaks, but I’m even </span>
  <em>
    <span>more </span>
  </em>
  <span>different—I’ve got this lovely </span>
  <em>
    <span>scar</span>
  </em>
  <span> from the killing curse and I’m an </span>
  <em>
    <span>orphan</span>
  </em>
  <span>—there are like, no orphans here, have you noticed? And everyone expects me to be good at </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> because I’m a prodigy at Quidditch—of all the things to be good at, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Quidditch</span>
  </em>
  <span><em>!</em> How useless is that?” Harry could tell he was ranting, rambling, not able to stop, his tone getting increasingly bitter, but he’d been holding this back for </span>
  <em>
    <span>so long</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “And apparently the Wizarding World has collectively put its safety in my hands—Voldemort </span>
  <em>
    <span>clearly</span>
  </em>
  <span> isn’t gone, but they’re all acting like he is, and when he comes back I’m going to be forced to kill him! I’m only thirteen, for Merlin’s sake. How incompetent can the rest of the Wizarding World be that a thirteen-year-old is expected to kill a Dark Lord?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breathing heavily, Harry sat down, since he’d apparently stood up and started pacing. Sensing that he’d finished, Professor Lupin started to speak. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> different, Harry—you’re extraordinarily talented, and smart, and kind, and generous; and yes, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>have more expectations put upon you than the average wizard, but that doesn’t make you a freak—despite the weight of these expectations, despite your horrid home life, you’re still </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>, which shows your incredible strength and courage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not that bad, at the Dursleys, really—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you wish it on anyone else if it’s</span>
  <em>
    <span> ‘not that bad’? </span>
  </em>
  <span>You don’t even call it </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘home.’”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe Malfoy…” An image of Malfoy flashed through his mind—hiding in the cupboard, burning his hands on the stove, getting punched by Dudley—and another wave of nausea passed over him. “No. No, I wouldn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly.” Professor Lupin looked mildly pleased. “That’s why we’re getting you out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry frowned. He wanted to argue, but that image of Malfoy—the person he hated most in the school—in his situation, and the adverse reaction he’d had to it…if he couldn’t wish it on his worst enemy, he couldn’t wish it on himself, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry loosed a shuddering sigh, leaning back against his chair. “Alright,” he conceded. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s just until you’re seventeen,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he reminded himself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>then you’re on your own again.</span>
  </em>
  <span> After all, why would Remus feel obligated to him once he was a legal adult?</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Are you ready?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry shouldered his bag and nodded firmly, though he was still fidgeting with his school robes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just a simple court hearing,” Remus assured him, “and then a meeting with a Ministry social worker—and, Harry?” Remus placed a hand on his shoulder, and Harry looked up at him. “You’ll need to tell the social worker everything you’ve told me, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nodded again, this time lifting one of his sleeves to indicate he was sans glamour charms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remember, there’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he assured him, lifting his own sleeve to reveal his hidden scars. “Every scar tells a story; they mean you were stronger than whatever tried to break you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Harry agreed, taking a deep breath as he allowed Remus to grip his upper arm, guiding Harry to the floo.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The witch cleared her throat as Remus finished reciting his reasons for petitioning. “And, Mr. Lupin—” she peered at them from the dais, curling her lip distastefully as she spoke, “how do you expect to care for Mr. Potter, given your… </span>
  <em>
    <span>condition?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can take care of myself,” Harry said quickly, glancing between Remus and the witch, “during the full moons, I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d leave a thirteen year old boy </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone</span>
  </em>
  <span> for the forty-eight hours required for a transformation?” She directed her question to Remus, despite the fact that Harry was the one who had spoken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With all due respect, ma’am,” Harry interrupted, and the witch was forced to acknowledge him for the first time. Remus gave his shoulder an encouraging squeeze, and he continued, “but my relatives—my current </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘guardians’</span>
  </em>
  <span>—already leave me for hours on end, except I’m—” he paused. Remus had asked him to tell them </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything,</span>
  </em>
  <span> so if that's what it took... “except I’m locked in a bloody </span>
  <em>
    <span>cupboard,</span>
  </em>
  <span> without even a means to </span>
  <em>
    <span>relieve</span>
  </em>
  <span> myself. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>understand</span>
  </em>
  <span> your qualms, but—” his voice took on an icy tone, “but I can’t fathom why you’d favor a guardian with a history of </span>
  <em>
    <span>starving their ward</span>
  </em>
  <span> over a man with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>controlled </span>
  </em>
  <span>affliction.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Ministry officials that were overseeing the hearing exchanged a look, and Harry took the opportunity to make his next statement. “Remus can’t help his lycanthropy, but the Dursleys </span>
  <em>
    <span>choose</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be abusive.” He looked to Remus for support, and felt a burst of pride when Remus smiled at him warmly—and Harry realized he’d acknowledged his relatives’ abuse for the first time.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“I think that went rather well; don’t you think?” Remus had his hand on the center of Harry’s back, guiding him out of the courtroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d rather not jinx it,” Harry answered timidly, but he still felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They followed a Ministry worker to a set of benches that lined the hallway, where they were instructed to wait for the social worker to retrieve Harry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re in the home stretch, Harry,” Remus assured him as Harry began to fidget with his school robes again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Interviewing with the social worker </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> be significantly less nerve-wracking than presenting to the Wizengamot, since it was one-on-one, but this time Harry was alone—he didn’t even have Remus’ reassuring presence by his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll be okay,” Remus squeezed his knee, sensing his nervousness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pinky promise?” Harry presented him with his pinky, grinning cheekily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus chuckled, basking in the warmth that spread through his chest. “Pinky promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Lupin?” A Ministry official was approaching them, dressed in expensive-looking dress robes. “I’d like to speak with you for a moment, I just have some follow-up paperwork to go over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus hesitated, looking at Harry uncertainly. “Sorry, we were waiting for Ms. Fenwick to meet with Harry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’ll be along in a few minutes,” the official assured them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright then,” Remus cleared his throat, giving Harry’s shoulder a squeeze as he stood. “You’ll be okay, Harry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nodded quickly, but Remus could tell how nervous he was from the way he lowered his head, keeping his hands in his lap to take up as little space as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell you what, why don’t you get started on that Defense essay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But—” Harry frowned, “But I don’t have a—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Six inches on the mechanism of </span>
  <em>
    <span>expelliarmus,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Remus said smoothly, winking over his shoulder as he left with the official.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grumbling under his breath, Harry dug some blank parchment and a self-inking quill out of his schoolbag. Secretly, he was glad for the distraction, especially since it was a rather easy topic.  </span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry was using the seat of the bench as a writing surface, scribbling out his essay with his wrist at an awkward angle when his shoulders tensed. He could hear the </span>
  <em>
    <span>click</span>
  </em>
  <span> of high-heeled shoes as someone approached him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Potter?” A tall witch looked down at the clipboard balanced in the crook of her elbow, then back up at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Er, yes.” Harry said. “Are you Ms. Fenwick?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, call me Hazel.” She smiled warmly and reached her hand out to shake Harry’s hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hazel,” he repeated, nodding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t we come to my office? It’s just down the hall.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” Harry stood quickly, knocking his forgotten essay to the ground, and his face reddened as he scooped up the parchment and quill before hurrying after Hazel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hazel’s office was small, with most of the space taken up by a desk and a couch that was pushed up against the wall. As Harry followed her inside, several muggle lamps lit up in a soft glow, and he figured they must have been modified to run on magic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go ahead and take a seat,” Hazel gestured to the armchair positioned on the other side of her desk, opposite of the desk chair that she settled into. “I’d like to assure you that our conversation will remain confidential; none of the information you provide leaves this room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry did as he was told, suddenly realizing he was still holding onto his half-finished essay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that homework?” Hazel asked sympathetically as Harry shoved it into his bag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Er, kind of,” he answered, “Professor Lupin gave me an essay to work on while I waited, just to keep me busy. I don’t know if he’s actually going to grade it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm.” She nodded, studying Harry as he sat timidly in the chair, running his fingers through his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry shifted awkwardly in the chair, trying to angle himself towards the door to bring it into view, </span>
  <em>
    <span>just in case</span>
  </em>
  <span> he needed to get out of there. His heart was racing; he waited for that inevitable question: </span>
  <em>
    <span>so, your muggle relatives are abusive?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Except, that question never came.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hazel studied the boy perched in the chair across from her, noting his stiff shoulders, the way he fidgeted with his robes, and how his eyes darted around the room frantically, as if searching for potential threats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me about Professor Lupin,” Hazel said finally, satisfied in the way Harry relaxed, exhaling in relief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s brilliant,” Harry grinned, his nervousness melting away. Remus was an easy subject for him. “He’s the best Defense professor we’ve had—though, our last two were pretty bad, so it’s not much of a comparison,” he chuckled, mostly to himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hazel nodded, smiling softly as she jotted something down on her clipboard. “That’s wonderful,” she agreed, “but what about his relationship with </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, personally?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Right. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Well, er—he was one of my parents’ best friends, and he tells me what they were like.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m not setting the bar very high, am I?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “At the beginning of the year—you know about the dementors at Hogwarts, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded, wincing sympathetically. “I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, um, the dementors affect me more than the others,” Harry explained softly, looking down at his hands. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I have to tell her everything.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I get these horrid visions of—er, never mind. I usually pass out from them, but Professor Lupin taught me the Patronus charm so that wouldn’t happen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hazel raised an eyebrow. “You managed to learn the Patronus charm? That’s very impressive, especially at your age. You must be very proud of yourself. Perhaps, when I escort you back to school, you’d like to show me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Remus isn’t taking me back?” Harry’s head snapped up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid his paperwork is going to take a bit longer than expected, but depending on how long we take here, he may be done in time to take you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry cleared his throat “Well, either way, I—I can’t show you my Patronus.” He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. “I can’t—I can’t cast it anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have any idea why?” Hazel asked gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, maybe?” Harry shrugged. “The dementors kind of suck the life out of everything. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Literally.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re thinking that their influence is preventing you from casting a Patronus?”</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nodded. He hadn’t told anyone about that—not Remus, not Ron, not Hermione.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hazel waited a moment for Harry to speak, but when he didn’t, she moved on. “How would you feel—and this is just a </span>
  <em>
    <span>suggestion,</span>
  </em>
  <span> about returning to your relatives for a few weeks this summer, to see how it goes?” Her job, after all, was to gauge how safe Harry would be if he remained with his relatives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t go back there!” Harry bleated, before snapping his mouth shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raised her eyebrows in surprise and slowly sat forward. “Why’s that?” She asked carefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—uh, I had a bit of accidental magic before I left there last summer,” Harry said slowly, “they Obliviated my aunt—well, my uncle’s sister—but I have no idea if they Obliviated my relatives, too,” he took a deep breath, “they already… they already punish me for the little things, but—this time was really bad,” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hazel frowned. Harry was thirteen—accidental magic in teens was exceedingly rare, as most children learned to control it by the time they began school. For Harry to </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> exhibit signs of accidental magic...that meant he certainly wasn’t lying about his relatives’ hatred of magic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you do while you’re with your relatives?” She asked finally. Harry was breathing heavily by now, and Hazel knew she had to tread carefully if she wanted to avoid sending him into a full-blown panic attack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chores, usually,” Harry gave a small shrug, “gardening, cleaning, cooking—whatever my aunt can think of. Otherwise, I’m locked in my bedroom or my cupboard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your—your cupboard?” Hazel questioned, tilting your head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nodded grimly. “The cupboard was where I slept until I was eleven.” He fell silent, fidgeting with the sleeves of his robes. He didn’t feel like explaining further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” she sighed, leaning back in her chair. “I think that’s enough, yeah? You’ll receive a letter with the Ministry’s decision in about a week—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s something else.” Harry said suddenly. He’d promised Remus that he’d tell her </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um,” Harry pulled his sleeves down, his hands shaking. “I usually use glamour charms but—Remus said I shouldn’t—” he huffed, finally pulling up his sleeves to reveal the scars littering his skin. He avoided Hazel’s eyes when he heard her gasp. “They used to be worse, but Remus got me a salve to heal them,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are they from?” She asked softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My aunt started making me cook when I was seven,” he answered, his voice monotone. “Except I didn’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>how,</span>
  </em>
  <span> so I burnt myself a lot. Sometimes she’d burn </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> if I ruined breakfast.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hazel stood from her chair, carefully stepping around the desk to place a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You won’t be going back there, Harry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry had looked up in surprise when she’d stood, and now he nodded. “Thanks,” he said softly. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to trust her, but he knew better than to get his hopes up—he’d been disappointed far too many times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you ready to go back to Hogwarts?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded again, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he stood. “Yeah,” he said, following her out the door.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Fun fact: a lot of the legal junk in this chapter is inspired by the process for getting your gender marker changed in the US-theres no standardized process, and some states dont even have one :( its just up to whatever judge/official is in charge :(</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I split this chapter into two so that i could update sooner xD enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Harry used his fork to move his food around his plate, forcing himself to take another bite. Anxiety roiled in his gut as his mind returned to the topic of his adoption. It had been approved, but he had no idea when Dumbledore would find out, or how he’d react. Not only that, but the potential for a leak to the press loomed over his head, too. His case was supposed to be confidential, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Daily Prophet</span>
  </em>
  <span> was always finding ways to leak his personal information to the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked up from his dinner as a knock sounded at the door to Remus’ quarters, and watched as Remus stood from his small desk to answer the door.</span>
</p><p><span>“Hey, Professor,”</span> <span>Aspen Silverling, a second year, said shyly when Remus answered the door. “Hi, Harry,” she added when she spotted Harry on the couch with his plate balanced on his knees. “Could you take a look at my essay? I’m not sure I’m understanding the differences between the different types of shielding charms</span><em><span>.</span></em><span>”</span></p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Ms. Silverling,” Remus gave a quick nod to Harry before stepping out to speak with the student.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry continued to push food around on his plate for a few moments before glancing around the room in boredom. Remus had filled every inch of his quarters with bookcases, plants, and various knickknacks, often piling work onto already–high stacks of books on his desk. Harry’s favorite trinket was the miniature replica of the Hogwarts grounds that sat on Remus’ desk—it was enchanted to reflect the exact weather conditions outside. He stood to get another look at it. There were storm clouds gathering under the replica’s glass dome, and a quick glance out the window told him it was accurate—a storm was definitely brewing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted some familiar handwriting on one of the many essays strewn across the desk. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No—that’s not an essay, that’s the Map!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Harry couldn’t help himself; he’d sorely missed getting to study it in his free time. It was already activated, so all Harry had to do was look at it. He studied it frantically, drinking in as many details as he could before Remus came back. Students were already leaving the Great Hall after dinner, and Harry felt a pang of guilt for abandoning his friends. They’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>said</span>
  </em>
  <span> it was alright—in fact, they’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>insisted</span>
  </em>
  <span>—that he spend some time with Remus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He spotted Hermione first, leaving the Great Hall with Ron and Neville behind her, but there was another name right on top of Ron’s—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Peter Pettigrew.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry recognized the name, alright. It had taken a lot of questioning, but Remus had finally revealed to him what </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> happened the night his parents died; what happened when </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sirius</span>
  </em>
  <span> had betrayed Harry’s parents. He’d heard about Peter, too—how his body was completely incinerated by Sirius’ blasting spell, leaving behind only a finger.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So how is Peter Pettigrew on the Map?</span>
  </em>
  <span> It </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> be a malfunction, but it was too specific to be a mere fluke. The obvious conclusion, therefore, was that Peter Pettigrew was alive and kicking. After all, no blasting spell would be able to </span>
  <em>
    <span>completely</span>
  </em>
  <span> destroy a body, bones and all.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Peter was a rat animagus,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Harry thought in horror, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ron’s rat, Scabbers—</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Harry was frozen in place for one long second before coming to his senses and running for the door—</span>
  <em>
    <span>I have to tell Remus, we have to make sure he can’t get away—</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He burst through the door, only to stop short when he realized Remus was still busy with Aspen. Harry waited impatiently, heart racing, as Remus quietly explained something to her, pointing to the parchment in several places while she nodded.</span>
</p><p><span>“Does that make sense now?”</span> <span>Remus asked Aspen, who nodded again, and Remus smiled warmly as he bid her farewell.</span></p><p>
  <span>Remus furrowed his brow when he saw Harry at the door, eyes wide. “Is everything alright Harry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t form the words fast enough, and he resorted to waving Remus into his quarters frantically. “I know I shouldn’t have been looking but I just couldn’t help it, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>right there—”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry,” Remus placed a hand on his shoulder, “what’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peter Pettigrew is on the Map!” He finally managed to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few different emotions flickered through Remus’ eyes; confusion, doubt, and finally horror. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He rushed over to his desk and quickly moved the essays out of the way. “Where?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With Ron!” Harry took a deep breath, trying to slow his heart. “Peter’s a rat animagus, right? He’s</span>
  <em>
    <span> Ron’s rat.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He leaned over the Map and jabbed his finger at Ron’s name with Peter’s on top. “We have to do something! If he’s not dead, then that means that—that—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> do anything right now,” Remus held Harry at arms length and shook his head when Harry spluttered. “We can’t just send aurors to come marching into the castle to apprehend him! He’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>rat,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’ll get away, just like last time.” He took a long, exaggerated breath, and Harry mimicked him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need to come up with a plan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus nodded. “I’m going to give you the Map for tonight, alright? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just</span>
  </em>
  <span> for tonight. Now, here’s what I want you to do…” </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>It was another hour before Harry finally trudged up to the Gryffindor tower, the Map burning a hole through his pocket. He knew the plan, of course, but he hated the idea of withholding information from his friends, </span>
  <em>
    <span>especially</span>
  </em>
  <span> when he knew how it felt. Maybe he could just—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swung open the portrait hole and was hit in the face with the sound of Ron and Hermione arguing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you want </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do, Ronald!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want you to bring Scabbers back!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What is going on?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Harry interrupted, and both of his friends spun towards him, furious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her—her </span>
  <em>
    <span>monster</span>
  </em>
  <span> of a cat attacked Scabbers again! He’s trying to kill him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe</span>
  </em>
  <span> if you kept your pet in your dorm like all the other students—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious, Harry, Scabbers will probably die from a heart attack if that </span>
  <em>
    <span>cat</span>
  </em>
  <span> doesn’t—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can rats </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> heart attacks?” Harry interrupted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As a matter of fact, they can,” Hermione answered sweetly, glaring at Ron.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guys, please!” Harry ran his hands through his hair wearily. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span> stop fighting. I need to talk to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ron quickly closed his mouth, swallowing whatever insult or comeback he’d been about to say. “Sorry, mate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too, Harry,” Hermione nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry headed for the sofa by the fireplace, missing the guilty look she shot him as he passed. “Listen,” Harry continued, “I—ugh, I don’t really know how to say this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is everything alright?” Hermione furrowed her brow, “is this about the adoption?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Er, no,” he answered, looking at the ceiling. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to tell you, but I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he huffed. “Remus and I are planning something, I guess? And I just need you to go along with it until I can explain things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“O—kay,” Ron narrowed his eyes, “not that I don’t trust you, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> exactly are you planning?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> said he can’t tell us, Ronald.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well obviously he can tell us </span>
  <em>
    <span>something.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, </span>
  <em>
    <span>alright,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I just need you to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>one thing </span>
  </em>
  <span>for me. Ron, I need you to bring Scabbers with you to lunch tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know where Scabbers </span>
  <em>
    <span>is,</span>
  </em>
  <span> or if he’s even </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ron protested, shooting a glare at Hermione.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ron,” Harry ran his fingers through his hair. He’d just seen Peter on the Map—not that he could explain that to his friends. “Hermione, where’s Crookshanks?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s in my dorms,” she answered, frowning. “Is this about us—” she gestured between her and Ron, “—fighting? Because I’m really sorry, Harry, you’re already going through a lot and the last thing you need is—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s alright, ‘Mione,” Harry assured her, smiling wearily. “Can you bring him down for a minute?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione did as he asked, and Harry gently lifted him into his lap, ignoring the long cat fur that immediately stuck to his robes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you…” Ron stared at him, “are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>talking</span>
  </em>
  <span> to her cat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s half-Kneazle,” Harry answered, as if that answered his question, and he finished speaking softly into Crookshanks’ ear, laughing at Ron’s expression when Crookshanks jumped off Harry’s lap and bolted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bloody hell, Harry, if that cat is about to hunt down Scabbers—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not,” Harry assured him, rolling his eyes. “I’m going to go to bed, yeah? I’m tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next morning, Ron was elated to see Scabbers curled into a ball next to his pillow, thankful that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>hadn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>been killed by Crookshanks, and he slipped him into his pocket before heading to breakfast with Harry. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Honestly, Harry, you should be working on your charms homework—you don’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> if Professor Lupin will grade that </span>
  <em>
    <span>expelliarmus</span>
  </em>
  <span> essay,” Hermione sighed, casting her eyes around the near–empty Great Hall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>fault that Cheering Charms are boring,” Harry answered idly as he continued to scribble on his parchment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They are </span>
  <em>
    <span>not,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Hermione insisted, “their effect is actually quite similar to muggle antidepressants, in that they—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remus!” Harry interrupted Hermione as Remus stode past their spot at the Gryffindor table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hullo, Harry,” Remus said cheerfully, “Hermione, Ron,” he added, nodding at each of them respectively.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remus—er, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Professor—</span>
  </em>
  <span>can you show me that spell now? The transfiguration one? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He added as Remus appeared to hesitate. “We’ve got a free period right now, are you busy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was an amused glint in Remus’ eyes as he chuckled. “It’s been years since I’ve used that spell, Harry,” he paused, “perhaps Professor McGonagall could demonstrate it,” he suggested, “I believe she has a free period right now</span>
  <span>,</span>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What spell are you talking about?” Ron interrupted, confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>got</span>
  </em>
  <span> to see it,” Harry grinned, “c’mon, lets go!” He swept his parchment and quill into his bag and grabbed Ron’s arm to pull him out of his seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, </span>
  <em>
    <span>alright,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m coming!” Ron grumbled, but secretly, he wasn’t that mad—he hadn’t seen Harry this excited in </span>
  <em>
    <span>ages,</span>
  </em>
  <span> so whatever it was, he was willing to entertain it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione, Ron and Remus hurried after Harry as he rushed to the transfiguration classroom, quickly knocking on the door and waiting a beat for opening it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hello boys,” Professor McGonagall looked up from her desk to see Harry and Ron poking their heads through the doorway, “and Hermione, Remus,” she added as two more heads appeared behind them. “How can I help you?”</span>
</p><p><span>“I asked Remus to show us a spell, but he said you would be more adept at</span> <span>it than him,” Harry opened the door the rest of the way and headed towards the front of the classroom, “Remus said you would be better at it than him.”</span></p><p>
  <span>She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And that spell would be…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus appeared to be suppressing his laughter. “It’s the Inanimate Illusion spell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The prank quill charm, huh?” She chuckled, looking at Harry. “That was one of your father’s favorites when he was a student—it’s perfect for creating harmless mischief.” To Harry’s surprise, she cast a wink at Remus. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You see, it transforms an animate object into something </span>
  <em>
    <span>in</span>
  </em>
  <span>animate—James loved using it to create fake quills,” Remus explained, “as soon as someone would try to </span>
  <em>
    <span>use</span>
  </em>
  <span> the quill, the spell would revert, leaving the person clutching a disgruntled pet or whatever had been transfigured.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s brilliant!” Ron laughed, “can you show us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Weasley, do you have your rat with you?” Professor McGonagall’s lips were pressed into a thin line, as if to hide a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Er, yeah—” Ron procured Scabbers from his robes, passing him to her without a second thought, and leaned in to watch her cast the spell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, posing her wand above Scabbers. Ron and Hermione were so focused on watching Scabbers, they didn’t notice Remus tighten his grip on his own wand.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Animagi Abrogatum!</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>”</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Petrificus Totalus!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Both spells were cast in quick succession, and Ron and Hermione were forced to jump back as Ron’s pet rat was replaced by the body of a large, dirty man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“WHAT THE </span>
  <em>
    <span>FUCK?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Animagi Abrogatum" is an original spell, btw—it exists in canon, but no incantation is known. ('Abrogatum' comes from Latin 'abrogatus' meaning "to recall/take away/cancel")  :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“WHAT THE </span>
    <span>FUCK?”</span>
    
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Professor McGonagall grimaced as she looked down at Peter Pettigrew’s petrified form on her desk. Mercifully, the Animagi magic had preserved his clothing, so at least he wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>naked.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I’m inclined to agree with you, Mr. Weasley,” she glared at the man, “but do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> let me hear those words come from your mouth again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus nudged Ron with his elbow. “Don’t worry, I said </span>
  <em>
    <span>much </span>
  </em>
  <span>worse things when I was your age, for much less scandalous situations.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ron didn’t seem to register what Remus had said as he stared at Peter in shock. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Scabbers?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He squeaked, “what happened to—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It appears that Peter Pettigrew has been masquerading as your pet rat for the last twelve years,” Remus sighed, “I’m truly sorry you had to find out this way, Ron. Do you know what this means?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione was the first to connect the dots. “Sirius Black </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> kill him,” she blinked, “which means he may not have killed </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone, or</span>
  </em>
  <span> betrayed your parents, Harry.</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>A smile spread across Harry’s face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sirius never broke his pinky promise, after all.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I have some good news,” Professor McGonagall pushed herself into a standing position, “Pettigrew has been found trespassing on school grounds, which makes it perfectly legal to administer Veritaserum.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After sending a quick Patronus message to Dumbledore, (Harry would have to ask Remus about that later) she and Remus levitated him to the Headmasters office under a disillusionment charm, with Harry, Ron and Hermione following behind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry I didn’t warn you,” Harry lowered his voice, turning to his friends. “We didn’t want to risk Scabbers—er, Pettigrew—catching on to our plan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“This</span>
  </em>
  <span> is what you were planning?” Ron asked incredulously, shaking his head. “I don’t blame you, mate. I just can’t believe I’ve been sleeping with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>grown man</span>
  </em>
  <span> for years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you find out, Harry?” Hermione asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw him on the Map when I was in Remus’ quarters,” Harry explained, “he must’ve been hiding from Crookshanks every time I used it at the beginning of the year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess I can understand why Crookshanks had it out for Scabbers,” Ron muttered under his breath, “do you think he knew Scabbers was Pettigrew?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Harry nodded, “Scabbers was in our dorms this morning, remember? Because I told Crookshanks that I knew who he was, and to stop scaring him away so that we could catch him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Merlin</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Ron whispered, shaking his head. “I can’t believe this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me neither,” Harry agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope this means Black—Sirius—can be cleared, right? If he really </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> betray your parents?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Harry smiled hopefully, “and then I can meet my </span>
  <em>
    <span>other</span>
  </em>
  <span> godfather.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The gentle sound of waves lapping against the shore soothed Remus’ anxious heart as he and Harry sat on a bench near the lake. It was still, but Remus’ ears had always been sensitive, and his </span>
  <em>
    <span>furry little problem</span>
  </em>
  <span> had just made them more sensitive. He hated it most of the time, choosing to place muffling charms over his ears to tune out the extra noises, but when he was stressed, the ambient noise was soothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> be stressed, of course—after weeks of letters and angry Ministry visits, they had </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span> gotten Sirius’ trial moved up and his name cleared. Well, he said </span>
  <em>
    <span>they</span>
  </em>
  <span>—in reality, it had taken Minerva stepping in and shouting about Sirius’ wrongful imprisonment, and using Harry’s Boy–Who–Lived status to force the Ministry to speed up the proceedings. Sirius wasn’t actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>present</span>
  </em>
  <span> for the trials</span>
  <em>
    <span>,</span>
  </em>
  <span> of course, as he was still on the run. The paper announcing Sirius’ pardoning had been released this morning, which meant that as soon as Remus could </span>
  <em>
    <span>find</span>
  </em>
  <span> him, he could bring Sirius home. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Where </span>
  </em>
  <span>home was, Remus didn’t know—but he and Sirius had always said that home was with each other. A sappy sentiment, but maybe it would hold, even after all these years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry was gazing across the water with a soft smile on his face, but Remus noticed the tightening of his wiry shoulders and the way his eyes didn’t crinkle with his smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong, pup?” Remus murmured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Harry answered, matching his low tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope, none of that shit, Harry.” Harry glanced at Remus in surprise. “You can’t lie to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry huffed, resting his face in his hands, elbows propped on his knees. “I’m wondering why Dumbledore hasn’t said anything to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About the adoption?” Remus paused when Harry nodded, then continued. “That’s because I already spoke to him about it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry looked up, his eyebrows raised. “You did?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He wasn’t happy about it, as much as I hate it—I know,” he agreed when Harry grumbled under his breath. “The blood wards at the Dursleys fell as soon as the adoption was approved, and they can’t be reinstated, so there’s no chance of him trying to make you change your mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Harry sighed deeply, his eyes going unfocused as his gaze returned to the lake. “Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there something else?” Remus frowned, recognizing the tired, heavy look in Harry’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry sighed. “I trust you, and of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m so excited to live with you—and I trust your judgement, but I’ve never even </span>
  <em>
    <span>met</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sirius. I haven’t heard anything about him other than </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘he was a bit of a troublemaker’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘betrayed my parents,’</span>
  </em>
  <span> which isn’t true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Bit’ is definitely an understatement</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Remus thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just…I don’t know.” Harry continued, “It’s hard to trust adults, I think, after…everything, and just </span>
  <em>
    <span>living</span>
  </em>
  <span> with a brand new person—it couldn’t be worse than the Dursleys, I know you’d never let that happen, but I can’t help but be nervous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus smiled slightly at the explicit trust Harry had in him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Of course</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’d be nervous—Remus mentally slapped himself for not considering it—and mulled over Harry’s words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I told you a little about Sirius—from before Azkaban, as I knew him,” he suggested, “would that maybe help, a little? Of course I’m going to make sure that you two meet before we move in together, but just a little forewarning, so to speak.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry sat up and leant into Remus’ side. “I think—I think that would be okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus sighed lightly. Where to start?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you know of my...</span>
  <em>
    <span>affliction, </span>
  </em>
  <span>of course—perhaps the thing to start with is how Sirius reacted to that. I don’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span>, when he figured it out—he and James said they’d caught on by the beginning of second year, but Sirius was brought up in a more… </span>
  <em>
    <span>traditional</span>
  </em>
  <span> pureblood family. I reckon that he was taught how to spot one from a young age, so I bet he’d worked it out within the first half of first year. The most important thing, I think, is that he didn’t tell the whole school, and he didn’t distance himself from me. In fact, he became my best friend, despite it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, end of second year, he and James came out and told me. This was the first Peter heard of it, and he was understandably terrified, but Sirius…” Remus chuckled lightly. He’d kept all these memories locked up for so long, he’d forgotten how happy, how </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved</span>
  </em>
  <span>, they made him feel. “He threatened to hex Peter, spread horrid rumours about him, and feed him to the Slytherins if he didn’t accept me. He wouldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> have done such things, but still, it’s the thought that counts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry laughed softly into Remus’ sweater. Emboldened, he continued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He and James, I assume, essentially spent that summer persuading Peter to accept me, and researching how to be able to help. At the time, the wolfsbane potion hadn’t been invented, so I just had to stay in the Shrieking Shack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When they came back, they were downhearted because they hadn’t found anything, but I was more than thankful—they’d accepted me and kept me as their friend despite what I was. I couldn’t ask for more. But James and Sirius—there was never a more stubborn pair. I told them to give it up, but they continued to research behind my back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They kept looking after me after the full moons, throughout this, but Sirius </span>
  <em>
    <span>especially</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He was never one for taking notes, despite his </span>
  <em>
    <span>wonderful </span>
  </em>
  <span>handwriting,” Remus sighed wistfully, “but after every full moon, without fail, he’d go to </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> of my classes and take notes. Even Ancient Runes, which took place during his frees and he barely understood the subject—he’d even ask Professor Babbling to make sure the notes were accurate for me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometime in their fifth year, Sirius, Peter and James all became Animagi. One of the steps in becoming an Animagus is holding a mandrake leaf in your mouth for an </span>
  <em>
    <span>entire month.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Harry grimaced, and Remus nodded. “Exactly, it’s both difficult </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> disgusting. Peter managed three days on his first go, James managed ten; but Sirius, he did the full month his first try. I don’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> I didn’t realise—it was OWLs, and I was quite stressed, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Sirius not talking for an entire month is a difficult thing to not notice—but anyway, at my next transformation, there was a black dog with me to keep me grounded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps that—going through all </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>, for a friend—that is the best representation of Sirius’ personality. Unswerving loyalty, and he would do literally </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> for his friends. A bit like yourself, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry huffed lightly, a smile spreading across his face. “That makes me feel better. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, pup.” Remus wrapped his arm around Harry, pulling him in for a hug. As he let go, he startled, as a branch snapped behind him. They weren’t close to the woods, Remus had made sure—and none of the creatures ventured this close to the lake in fear of the Giant Squid, who was known to drag anyone who wasn’t a student into the lake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry, it’s late, and almost dinner—why don’t you head up to the castle? I just need to check something for one of my lessons.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nodded, briefly hugging Remus before fleeing to the castle. Remus made a mental note to be happy about that interaction later—first, he had to see what was in the woods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He quickly turned around, willing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. There was a dark shape in the trees—maybe Fang? But Remus caught a glimpse of grey eyes and a scent carrying on the wind, and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus hurried towards the tree line, cursing his human legs as the dog bolted. Relying mostly on his scent, Remus went into the trees, casting a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lumos </span>
  </em>
  <span>and dodging tree roots as he followed that familiar scent—that scent that led to </span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Remus wasn’t fast enough, and the scents of the other creatures of the forest were too strong. After maybe five minutes, he’d lost him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mentally cursing himself, he paced the clearing, wondering </span>
  <em>
    <span>where</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sirius had gone. He wouldn’t sleep in the forest, there were </span>
  <em>
    <span>far</span>
  </em>
  <span> too many hostile creatures...but the forest was the only place without people...right?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Where wouldn’t there be people?</span>
  </em>
</p><p><span>Remus stopped abruptly, before suddenly sprinting back to the castle. There was a place where </span><em><span>no one</span></em><span> went because it was supposedly haunted. In reality, it was a young werewolf who had spent five</span> <span>years howling within those walls, not a malicious spirit.</span></p><p>
  <span>Remus had had </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span> intention of going back to that cursed place, but if Sirius was there…for Sirius, he could do it.</span>
</p><p><span>He</span> <span>rushed to his quarters as fast as he could and whirled through the room, picking up the newspaper that he’d danced around the room with this morning, and a huge bar of Honeydukes chocolate. Shoving those in his pockets, he scanned the room wondering </span><em><span>what else</span></em><span> he needed. He couldn’t leave just those two things—although the chocolate </span><em><span>would</span></em><span> tell Sirius it was Remus that had left the newspaper, he needed something else. Something more </span><em><span>personal</span></em><span>.</span></p><p>
  <span>He grabbed his quill and dipped it in ink, staring at a blank piece of parchment, trying to think of what to say. What do you say after twelve years of thinking your best friend—your </span>
  <em>
    <span>husband—</span>
  </em>
  <span>was a murderer?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gently sucked on the end of the quill, before remembering the notes they used to pass in class.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He quickly scribbled down the familiar phrase, signing it off with his nickname—the one only Sirius ever used—and </span>
  <em>
    <span>accio’</span>
  </em>
  <span>ed a pen from his trunk, catching it with one hand, because he certainly couldn’t take a </span>
  <em>
    <span>quill and ink</span>
  </em>
  <span> to the Shack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gazed at it for a moment—it was one he’d bought Sirius for his sixteenth birthday. It was a muggle ink pen, enchanted with the same charm used on self–inking quills, engraved with Sirius’ name in silver on the polished black surface and set in a velvet case. He tucked it in the pocket closest to his heart before hurrying down to the Whomping Willow. </span>
</p><p><span>He hesitated just out of reach of the branches. This tunnel held so many terrible memories—ones of immense pain as his bones stretched and cracked, of fear that he’d transform sooner than usual, that he’d hurt someone—and a memory of</span> <span>Snape’s terrified face as he peered into the depths.</span></p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Remus told himself as he started to hyperventilate, holding his breath for four seconds before releasing it, and taking five more deep breaths. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m doing this for Sirius. He did </span>
  </em>
  <span>everything</span>
  <em>
    <span> for me—I can do this little thing for him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flicked his wand at a nearby stick, making it touch the knot so he could easily slip between the tree</span>
  <b>’s </b>
  <span>roots. Crawling on his hands and knees</span>
  <em>
    <span>—honestly</span>
  </em>
  <span>, being tall was a pain in the arse most of the time—he closed his eyes and focused on the packed earth between his fingers, the scent of earth, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sirius</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand hit wooden floorboards, and he opened his eyes, focusing on that scent, growing stronger with every step. He grimaced, walking up the stairs, dragging his fingers across a gouge he’d made in the walls when he was young. But he wasn’t focusing on the past—he was focusing on Sirius.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scent was strongest in the upstairs bedroom, centered around a ratty bed. The ratty bed </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’d </span>
  </em>
  <span>once laid on</span>
  <b>, </b>
  <span>after every single full moon. He breathed a sigh of relief that Sirius’ scent had almost completely masked the scents from his youth, giving him an anchor in the wave of emotions that had threatened to pull him away at the sight of this shack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He quickly placed his gifts on the bed, returning to the castle the way he’d come. He didn’t think Sirius would come back in while he was there, and maybe—Remus didn’t know what he expected. Sirius probably wouldn’t come into the castle, but maybe he’d wait for Remus tomorrow morning.</span>
</p><hr/><p><span>Sirius padded across the grass—slightly damp from April showers—and cocked his head, pricking his ears as he heard footsteps going down the tunnel. He inched closer to the door, sniffing at the cracks, trying to find the scent. He had a suspicion who it was—he should never have gotten that close to Remus at the lake, but he </span><em><span>couldn’t</span></em> <em><span>help himself</span></em><span>—he’d just wanted to get a glimpse of his love and of his godson. And now Remus was going to try and take him in. That wouldn’t be </span><em><span>so</span></em><span> bad—as long as he got to Peter, the traitorous little bastard, first.</span></p><p><span>Sirius inched ever closer to the gap he used to get in and out in dog form, listening for footsteps, but thankfully the only ones he could hear were heading away from the shack. He ventured in cautiously—it could always be some idiot school kids, doing this on a dare. Merlin knows, he and the Marauders participated in plenty of those back in their day. He felt a stab of pain at the thought of his friends and shook his head, his ears flopping back and forth. One of them turned inside out, and he rolled his eyes, sniffing the air. Yep, Remus had been here recently, but</span> <span>he was already gone, leaving the shack empty and desolate. He looked down the tunnel that led to Hogwarts for a moment, a low whine sounding from his throat, but he reminded himself that he was a </span><em><span>wanted fugitive</span></em><span>. Remus wouldn’t do anything other than take him to the dementors, since he had allegedly killed James and Lily, and nobody had any evidence to dispute it. Tail between his legs, he slowly walked up the stairs, stopping dead when he smelled something familiar.</span></p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Chocolate</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius bounded up the stairs, on alert for any traps. There weren’t any—his time in Azkaban had left him very sensitive to any and </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> types of magic. He was even able to sense some young muggleborns in a few of the muggle towns he’d visited. There was no magical trace anywhere in the shack, though; just the faint scent of Remus, a chocolate bar, and some paper. He trotted over, and his heart leapt at the sight of the signature:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your Moonykins.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius bounded around the room in joy, overturning several pieces of furniture, because Remus had </span>
  <em>
    <span>written to him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And that </span>
  <em>
    <span>nickname</span>
  </em>
  <span>…Remus had hated it when Sirius gave him that nickname, all those years ago. It had been their inside joke. Well, Remus hadn’t found it very funny at the time...</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sirius charged into the hospital wing, bag of chocolate in hand. He’d enjoyed the Hogsmeade weekend, to a degree, but he’d also been distant the entire day—at least, according to Prongs. To be fair, he was right—all Sirius could think about was how much Remus would like all the pranks in Zonko’s, how good he would look in that emerald scarf in the window of Gladrag’s, and how he would scour the entirety of Honeydukes to find the best chocolate. Sirius wound up spending most of his pocket money on chocolate for Remus—which was a </span>
  </em>
  <span>lot</span>
  <em>
    <span> of money, since he’d decided to try and singlehandedly make his parents go broke while in Hogsmeade. It wouldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>work</span>
  <em>
    <span>, of course, but it’s the </span>
  </em>
  <span>thought</span>
  <em>
    <span> that counts, after all.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Despite the extension and lightening charms he’d put on it, the bag he had was quite heavy. He narrowly missed Remus as he dumped the bag on his hospital bed with a grin, his face still chilly from the cold November air. He grinned at Remus’ expression—he was </span>
  </em>
  <span>trying</span>
  <em>
    <span> to appear sarcastic, with one eyebrow raised and the rest of his face carefully neutral, but Sirius didn’t miss the way the corner of his mouth twitched, nor the slight twinkle in his eye.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I brought some chocolate for my Moonykins!” Sirius grinned, starting to pull chocolate out of the bag.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Remus huffed at the nickname, but still unwrapped one of the larger bars of chocolate and took a bite, a slight groan escaping his mouth. He suddenly remembered himself, and shot a mocking glare at Sirius. “If I wasn’t confined to this bed, I would slap you across the face.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p><em><span>Sirius smirked—it was a little difficult to take Remus seriously with chocolate at the corner of his mouth. “It’s a term of endearment.” He laughed softly, wiping away the chocolate away with his thumb, his eyes twinkling. “Because I</span></em> <em><span>love </span></em><span>yo</span><em><span>u, of course. You’re the only one for me.”</span></em></p><p>
  <b>
    <em>“</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>Must you be so cheesy?” Remus rolled his eyes and took another bite of chocolate, not quite hiding his small smile as he muttered, “I love you too, </span>
  </em>
  <span>unfortunately</span>
  <em>
    <span>.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s ‘cause you’re so cute.” Sirius smiled wickedly. “You’re my lil’ Moonykins.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>literally </span>
  <em>
    <span>half a foot taller than you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“But </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>older.” Sirius retorted as he plucked a bar of chocolate off the bed, elbowing Remus to get him to move over before climbing into the bed. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Now in human form, Sirius chuckled to himself as he stood from the dusty floor—how on </span>
  <em>
    <span>Earth</span>
  </em>
  <span> had they possibly thought they were straight?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been so lost in his memory that he had no idea how much time had passed before his mind cleared and he remembered that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he should probably read the rest of the note. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He delicately unwrapped a corner of the chocolate bar as he read:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Padfoot,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am. There aren’t any words for the magnitude of my betrayal, nor the guilt I am feeling.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You may be a little confused right now—have a read of the newspaper. You might find it interesting.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At the moment, I’m working at Hogwarts as the Defence professor. I wouldn’t be opposed to a visit from a black dog, should he want an explanation. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your Moonykins.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius sank to his knees, rereading the note over and over again, tracing the words written in Remus’ cramped, messy script, mouthing the words until the image of the note was burned into his brain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius couldn’t even begin to distinguish the emotions battling inside him as tears streamed down his face. He stood on shaky knees, carefully placing the note next to the newspaper. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Right, the article.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He broke off another square of chocolate, relishing the taste, as he looked at the front page, the huge, bold, capitalised letters screaming in his face.</span>
</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <b>
      <em>SIRIUS BLACK CLEARED OF ALL CHARGES AS NEW EVIDENCE COMES TO LIGHT</em>
    </b>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sirius murmured under his breath. He rubbed his eyes, then pinched himself on the arm, convinced that this was a dream, because </span>
  <em>
    <span>really, where would this new evidence have come from? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A quick skim read of the rest of the article told him—a few weeks ago, Peter had been caught by Moony and some teachers, hiding as a student’s pet rat. Veritaserum was quickly administered, after which Peter was forced to retell the events of </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> night. He’d been sentenced to life in Azkaban, but more importantly, Sirius was cleared of all charges.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius felt a flare of anger at the idea that he wouldn’t be able to get his revenge on Peter, but it quickly gave way to rational thought. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>free</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He could see Remus. He could see… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could see Harry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could have a proper family.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I just realized that my original estimate of four (and now five) chapters didn't include the epilogue, so there will be two more chapters after this one (unless we divide the next one in two again, because that one is quite long too)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm splitting this chapter again so I can update sooner (and so i can leave it on a cliffhanger, sorry not sorry)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Remus anxiously tapped his foot on the stone floor beneath a silencing charm as his students scribbled on their papers. He’d allowed them to spend the lesson writing essays, rather than assign homework—he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> a lesson planned, but didn’t think he could properly give it without bursting with nervous energy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After staying up late waiting for Sirius, he overslept and barely had time to eat his breakfast before arriving at his first class just as the bell rang. He’d managed to put his worries of Sirius out of his mind for most of his first lessons, ready to hurry down to lunch as soon as his seventh–years had left the room.</span>
</p><p><span>But then Percy Weasley stayed behind afterwards</span> <span>to ask </span><em><span>what</span></em><span>, exactly, he should focus on for his NEWTs—like he did </span><em><span>every</span></em><span> lesson, but of </span><em><span>course</span></em><span> today he seemed particularly interested in quizzing Remus. Normally he didn’t mind, but today all he could think of was going to see Sirius. Percy </span><em><span>finally</span></em><span> let him free halfway through lunch, which would have been fine because he still had half an hour left, but then Professor McGonagall caught him in the corridors, asking him if he was coming to lunch. He couldn’t just say </span><em><span>‘no, I want to go see if my Animagus husband is in the Shrieking Shack,’</span></em><span> so he was forced to go to lunch and engage in polite conversation. He finished his meal as quickly as humanly possible, but it was all for nothing, as Professor McGonagall didn’t let him go until five minutes before afternoon lessons. Remus </span><em><span>had</span></em><span> to go to his lessons, of course, because apparently it </span><em><span>‘wasn’t professional’ </span></em><span>for the teacher to skip class to go looking for his husband.</span></p><p>
  <span>So, Remus taught his lessons, noticeably more jittery than the morning, and by the end of it he’d given up on trying to teach, opting to just assign essays to work on. He looked at his watch again—only five more minutes (and these were second–years, so they wouldn’t stay behind) before he could see Sirius.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked back at the quizzes he was supposed to be marking, but grimaced and decided to just tidy his desk (actually, he was just shifting papers around, but anyway) for the remaining time. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Finally</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought, as the bell rang, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can go see Sirius</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was halfway to the passage when he remembered the lack of food in the Shack. Sure, he’d left a chocolate bar yesterday, but Sirius would need something </span>
  <em>
    <span>healthy.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He made a quick detour to the kitchens, grabbing some fruit from the kitchens before heading to the Willow and crawling through the passage as quickly as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus’ heart sank as the scent around the shack told him that Sirius wasn’t there, again. He ran up the stairs, cursing his stupidity—he shouldn’t have expected Sirius to wait for him. But, if he didn’t visit last night, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> he didn’t wait today…maybe Sirius didn’t forgive him. Maybe he’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>left,</span>
  </em>
  <span> now that he was a free man. Even if he had, Remus didn’t blame him, no matter how much it hurt to think about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus went to the bed—that horrid, ratty bed—and blinked in surprise at the note that was folded neatly on the mattress, held in place with the pen. The newspaper and chocolate were gone, meaning Sirius had been by—but he’d left Remus’ note. Tears ran down Remus’ cheeks as he dropped the fruit on the bed and picked up the note, surprised to find that it was smaller than it had been yesterday, and was ripped along the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heart pounding, Remus turned the note over, and clapped his hand over his mouth, sobbing with relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Je t’aime,</span>
  </em>
  <span> was written in Sirius’ swirling calligraphy. It was a little shaky, the ink blotchy in places, but it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sirius</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus took great gulping breaths, trying to keep his breaths quiet. He almost sat down on the bed to wait for Sirius to come back, but remembered that he’d promised to teach Harry some defence spells. He wiped his face with one hand, tucking the note into a pocket in his robes before going back to the castle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cast a couple of charms over his face to reduce the signs of his crying, making it to his classroom in record time in his haste to not meet anyone on the way. He bumped into Harry as they walked into the room at the same time, almost sending Harry sprawling across the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit, are you okay, Harry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry burst out laughing. “It’s always so funny hearing you swear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Satisfied that Harry was, in fact, okay, Remus shook his head and rolled his eyes, slipping past Harry to start rearranging the room, ready to practice their defence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>okay, Remus? You’re quiet. And you’ve got a little glimmer of glamours around your face.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be observant, didn’t you?” Remus sighed wearily as Harry raised an eyebrow, his expression remarkably similar to Lily’s whenever Remus started dancing around the subject. He sighed and blinked back some more tears. “Fine. I’ve found out where Sirius has been staying, and he left a note but didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>stay</span>
  </em>
  <span> because he’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>dramatic little shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so now I just need to catch him at the right time.”</span>
</p><p><span>A grin split across Harry’s face. “That’s brilliant!” He</span> <span>cried, launching himself into Remus’ arms. Remus took a step backwards to stay upright, wrapping his arms around Harry. Tears trailed down Remus’ cheeks as Harry’s arms tightened around his waist, because this was all he’d wanted. A family.</span></p><p><span>“I’m so excited to meet him,” Harry murmured against Remus’ chest, and Remus</span> <span>squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, because how did he end up with such a lovely godson. </span><em><span>Son</span></em><span>.</span></p><p>
  <span>“I’m excited for you to meet him too, pup.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a while, Harry extracted himself from Remus’ grip. “Alright, take your glamours off. I doubt you had </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> sleep last night.” He once again resembled Lily, hands on his hips, glaring at him righteously with green eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> sleep…” Remus muttered, reluctantly removing the glamours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope. You’re going to have dinner and go to bed </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span> because you’ve got massive bags under your eyes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You realise I’m supposed to tell </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> to go to bed?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> not the one who looks like shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus shook his head again. “You’re not supposed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>insult</span>
  </em>
  <span> me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m only telling the truth,” Harry answered haughtily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine!” Remus threw his hands in the air in defeat. “Come on, out of the classroom. We can catch up tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry grinned smugly as he walked out of the classroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus ate as quickly as he could, reasoning that the earlier he went to bed, the earlier he could get up and see Sirius. This logic didn’t hold, however, as he woke multiple times in the night, eventually giving up at four in the morning. He’d made himself a cup of tea and grabbed a book, reading by candlelight. Well, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>tried</span>
  </em>
  <span> to read—he was so distracted, he was just reading the same line over and over again. He drained his tea and made another, going through the motions like he was under an Imperius, his mind still drifting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sipped at his tea, drumming his fingers against the arm of his chair. He’d initially set an alarm on his wand for seven, but he couldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>possibly</span>
  </em>
  <span> sit here for another two hours and forty–five minutes. He continued along this manner until five–thirty, when the sun started to stream through the windows. At the sight of the dusky orange sky, he decided he couldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>take</span>
  </em>
  <span> it anymore, springing up and getting dressed. He forced himself to walk slowly to the kitchens, where the elves were already bustling around, cooking breakfast. He left with a few fried sausages—Sirius’ favourite. He quickly cast a preservation charm on the sausages, before gently placing it in his robes, frowning as he did so. Putting food in his robes had always weirded him out—perhaps because he’d been brought up to make his clothes last, which did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> include smearing food on them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now wasn’t the time to be worrying about that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hurried to the shack, stumbling a couple of times as he crawled through the tunnel for the third time in three days. When he finally stood inside the Shack, he inhaled deeply and grinned. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Padfoot’s here</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>He tiptoed as quietly as he could up to the room, not wanting to scare Sirius. He reached the doorway without incident, and felt his face light up as he saw a rather large, black ball of fluff curled up in the middle of the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stepped forwards, directly onto the creaky floorboard that he’d torn up on his first night there. Padfoot was immediately on alert, as he lifted his head, grey eyes still a little cloudy with sleep. He looked exactly as he used to in those mornings after the full moon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus sank to his knees under the weight of his emotions, choking out one word; </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Padfoot.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i totally forgot to post this chapter until someone on tik tok mentioned they read this fic on here lmao oops sorry yall</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>"Padfoot."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Padfoot jumped off the bed and into Remus’ arms, almost bowling him over into the hallway, and suddenly Remus was grinning, laughing as Padfoot licked away his tears, fingers gripping Padfoot’s wiry fur, feeling lighter than he had in thirteen years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus sat up, his arms still wrapped around Padfoot, whose paws rested on Remus’ shoulders as he cried into his fur. Padfoot transformed into Sirius, his arms now wrapped around Remus’ neck, shaking with sobs as he shoved his face into the crook of Remus’ neck like he used to when they were in school. His tears trailed down Remus’ neck, and Remus felt his own tears drip off his face into Sirius’ long dirty hair, which was a far cry from the thick and glossy hair he’d had in his youth—but that didn’t matter, because Sirius was </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span>, after thirteen long years,</span>
</p><p><span>After an aeon, they pulled away—still too soon, in Remus’ opinion—and they just</span> <em><span>stared</span></em><span> at each other for a moment. Sirius was horribly thin, with dark circles under his eyes and his porcelain skin hidden under a layer of dirt, only broken by trails left by tears and thin scratches, but his eyes were shining with happiness, and that was the most beautiful sight Remus had seen in a long time.</span></p><p>
  <span>Remus took Sirius’ face in his hand, his cutting jawline still fitting perfectly with Remus’ hands—they’d always fitted together perfectly, really—and finally kissed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It perhaps wasn’t the best kiss, all things considered; it was clumsy, and messy, and desperate, but Remus couldn’t care less, because it was Sirius in front of him—Sirius’ lips being traced by his own, Sirius’ hair under his fingers. Remus pulled away a fraction, his lips still barely grazing Sirius’, foreheads resting against one another, and he murmured, “I love you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius huffed a gentle laugh, and smiled, more tears running down his face. Remus ran a thumb against Sirius’ cheekbone—too prominent, but still as aristocratic as ever—and wiped away a tear, before drawing his wand and casting a gentle </span>
  <em>
    <span>scourgify</span>
  </em>
  <span> over Sirius’ skin and hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He suddenly remembered the sausages and pulled them out—they were a little squashed, but would still taste fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius grabbed one and ate it in three large bites, before reaching for the second one. “Have you eaten, Rem?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus grimaced. “No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius sighed and rolled his eyes, breaking the sausage in half and holding it to Remus’ lips. He opened his mouth obediently, just to see Sirius smile in satisfaction. Sirius ate his own half, before waving away the third sausage Remus offered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You eat that, you need it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus rolled his eyes. “No, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> need it, all that time in…” he didn’t finish his sentence, but still gave Sirius a stern look until he rolled his eyes and took the sausage, taking a large bite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” Remus stood from the floor and held his hand out to help Sirius up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hang on, I’m dizzy,” Sirius swayed after a moment as the blood rushed from his head, and Remus quickly wrapped his arms around his torso to steady him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better?” Remus dropped his head onto Sirius’ shoulder and sighed when he hugged him back. “I missed this,” he murmured, “so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius quickly swallowed the rest of the sausage. “Me too, Moony, Merlin I missed you so much. I’m so sorry, I—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Remus lifted his head, “It’s okay. There’s nothing to be sorry about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fresh tears welled up in his eyes. “It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>my fault,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Rem, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>the one who—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Remus said again, brushing the hair out of his face, “we’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>together</span>
  </em>
  <span> now. Everything’s alright.” Everything </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>alright, not yet, but it would be. “I pinky promise.”</span>
</p><p><span>Sirius laughed weakly, sending his tears running down his face, and he</span> <span>cupped Remus’ face in his hand, gently running his thumb over his cheek. “Oi, don’t fall asleep on me,” he laughed when Remus closed his eyes and sighed in contentment, “if you’re going to take a nap and use </span><em><span>me</span></em><span> as a pillow, at least let me get to the bed first!”</span></p><p>
  <span>“Sounds perfect,” Remus wrapped his fingers around his wrist and pulled him to the bed, falling backwards onto the creaky mattress and opening his arms wide for Sirius.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sirius asked incredulously, but didn’t object as he was pulled on top of Remus. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Threading his fingers through Sirius’ hair, Remus felt a knot in his chest unravel as he watched his husband rest his head on his chest, falling into a peaceful sleep.</span>
</p><hr/><p><span>Remus woke from his light sleep when he felt a pair of lips gently kiss his forehead. It took him a split–second to remember that </span><em><span>Sirius</span></em> <em><span>was here</span></em><span>. “Morning,” he lifted his head to press a kiss to Sirius’ cheeks. </span></p><p>
  <span>“Morning, Moony,” Sirius rewarded him with a warm smile, blinking at him with eyes still puffy from tears. “What time is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right.” Remus patted his pockets for his wand, eventually having to playfully shove Sirius off of him to reach the right pocket. A wordless </span>
  <em>
    <span>tempus</span>
  </em>
  <span> told him that it was just past nine—breakfast hadn’t ended yet, since it always went later on the weekends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should head back soon,” Remus reached for Sirius’ hand to give it a squeeze. “But first—” he rolled over onto Sirius, trapping him against the mattress and giving him a hard kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius laughed in surprise, letting his head fall back against the bed as he tangled his fingers in Remus’ hair, and he giggled when Remus responded with a low growl in the back of his throat. Remus laughed despite himself, and then Sirius burst into laughter. “You just kissed my </span>
  <em>
    <span>teeth,</span>
  </em>
  <span> you prat!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m out of practice!” Remus protested, propping himself up on his elbows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>better</span>
  </em>
  <span> be,” Sirius smirked, kissing him on the nose. “Alright, get off of me, we’ve got to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed that Sirius had an ulterior motive, however, for once they were both upright, Sirius spun around, shoving Remus against the wall and pressing his lips to his neck, just above his collarbone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sirius,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Remus gasped, clutching his tattered robes to pull him closer, “don’t you </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare</span>
  </em>
  <span> leave a mark—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>please,</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t tell me you forgot the healing spell,” Sirius grinned wickedly, peppering his neck with kisses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At this rate, we’ll never make it to the castle,” Remus breathed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” Sirius pulled away reluctantly, smirking at the flush across Remus’ face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should change into Padfoot,” he responded, drawing his wand to tidy up his hair. “I don’t know how well Severus would take to you waltzing through the castle. At least in dog form, all he can do is spit out his pumpkin juice and sound like a raving lunatic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sirius, who had initially snarled at the mention of Severus, grinned. “I like the way you think, Moony.” He quickly transformed into Padfoot, happily waving his tail in the air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus pulled the Map out of his pocket to find Harry, not thinking much about it until Padfoot nudged it with his nose, staring at it with wide eyes. “Can you </span>
  <em>
    <span>believe </span>
  </em>
  <span>that I caught Harry wandering around after curfew with it?” Remus chuckled, “I see a lot of Lily in him, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> was exclusively James. He looks like him, too—except his eyes. But you remember that.” Padfoot nodded, giving Remus' hand a gentle lick. Remus absentmindedly scratched behind Padfoot’s ears as he first checked the Gryffindor dorm rooms, surprised to see that Harry wasn’t in bed—it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> a Saturday, after all. He then checked the hall, and the kitchens, before finally spotting Harry’s name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Pads, he’s in the courtyard.” They took a long, winding path around the castle, Sirius happily bounding around, chasing the butterflies that danced among the wildflowers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus waved at Harry as he walked through the massive arch, Sirius quickly emerging afterwards. Harry, to his credit, didn’t react other than a subtle stiffening of his muscles, quickly relaxing afterwards. Hermione grinned in delight—she probably thought Padfoot was a stray. Remus couldn’t hold in his laugh at Ron’s reaction, though—he’d spotted Padfoot mid–yawn, and had flailed around wildly as he lost his balance on the bench he was sitting on, before jumping up and saying, “that’s a Grimm!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione rolled her eyes, punching him gently in the shoulder. “Shut up, Ron, it’s just an Irish wolfhound—a muggle breed,” she added, as he looked at her with a mixture of horror and confusion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still looked wary as Harry and Hermione approached Padfoot, Harry stumbling slightly as Padfoot put his paws on Harry’s shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Padfoot, </span>
  <em>
    <span>down</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Remus said sternly, huffing lightly as Padfoot shot him a dirty look, before going to Hermione for head–scratches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She obliged, looking at Remus curiously before saying, “are you alright, Professor? You look like you’ve been crying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus shook his head and rubbed his red-rimmed eyes. “I’m a bit tired, and... let’s just say I have a soft spot for strays,” he added, looking at Padfoot fondly, who’s eyes were half closed as Hermione continued to scratch behind his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, this one in particular,” Harry muttered from his side, earning an elbow from Remus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Padfoot moved to Harry again, this time allowing Harry to kneel down before licking his cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Padfoot, sit.” Padfoot sat, and Harry held out his hand, palm–up. “Shake.” Padfoot once again obeyed, and Ron cautiously approached.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione smiled. “See, Ron? Just a stray.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> well behaved…” Ron tilted his head, still rubbing at his eyes as he watched Harry fuss over Padfoot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe he’s just smart.” Harry stood up. “Remus, can I talk to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, Harry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they were out of earshot from Ron and Hermione, the latter of which was trying to convince the former to give Padfoot some fuss, Harry said “I don’t really want to keep this from them—can we just show them that it’s Sirius?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure that’ll be fine. Maybe Ron will be less nervous, as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus nodded, and Harry called Ron and Hermione over. “We’re just going to go upstairs—we need to show you something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both nodded and followed Remus up to his quarters, Padfoot trotting alongside with his nose in the air. Occasionally, he had to be called by Remus when he found an interesting scent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they were in the room, Padfoot spun around excitedly, enjoying the scent of Remus that filled the room. He ran around the room, sniffing and knocking over various stacks of books. Ignoring all this, Remus said, “What I’m going to show you will probably shock you, but please don’t scream, or go and tell everyone, because, just—you’re the only ones we’re telling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ron and Hermione nodded soberly, Harry barely stifling his laughter as Sirius sat on an armchair, after having knocked over the three books surrounding it trying to climb on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sirius, if you will.” Remus said.</span>
</p><p><span>“Did he just say—” Ron started, but no more words came out as Padfoot transformed into Sirius, now</span> <span>lounging on the chair.</span></p><p>
  <span>“I—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sirius Black</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Hello.” Hermione gave him a little wave, before turning to Ron with a small smile on her face, watching his face turn all sorts of colours—first a ghostly white, and then steadily turned darker shades of red as he spluttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s—that’s Sirius—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Ron, it’s Sirius Black.” Hermione shook her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s an <em>A</em></span>
  <em>
    <span>nimagus?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Ron, he’s an Animagus.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice to meet you, Ron, Hermione. Harry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus gently laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder, a quick glance confirming that he was tearing up. “Hi, Sirius,” he greeted shyly.</span>
</p><p><span>Sirius smiled widely, crows feet forming at the corners of his eyes. Hermione also looked happy, somehow</span> <span>taking it all in stride, but Ron still looked shocked.</span></p><p>
  <span>“Ron, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> you were going to meet him at some point. He’s my </span>
  <em>
    <span>godfather</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and I’m going to live with him.”</span>
</p><p><span>“Right…yeah, mate, I’m sorry. Got a bit caught up in my head, after seeing all those posters and everything. But we know that was all bullshit, and I’m</span> <span>happy for you.” Ron grinned, apparently tossing away all his inhibitions. “Hi, I’m Ron Weasley.”</span></p><p>
  <span>Sirius grinned, and turned back into Padfoot, knocking </span>
  <em>
    <span>another</span>
  </em>
  <span> stack of books over before pawing at the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus raised an eyebrow. “You don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>to act like a dog at all times, you know that, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Padfoot rolled his eyes before sitting next to the door, his tail thumping impatiently on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus huffed. “Fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all headed back outside, sitting in the grass and laughing at Padfoot, who had gone back to the very exciting pastime of chasing insects through the grass. After a while, he got tired and sat next to Remus, his head lolling on Remus’ leg. The three kids eventually went inside when Ron complained it was too hot, but Remus decided to stay for a bit longer. He and Padfoot continued to sit on the grass, enjoying the fresh air and the springtime sun.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Surprisingly, no one questioned the stray dog that started following Remus to meals and sitting in the corner of the classroom, watching the students with intelligent eyes. A few students who’d grown up with the same beliefs as Ron were initially startled by the large, black dog, thinking that it was a Grimm, but their inherent trust in Remus resulted in everyone just saying that Remus has a lot of ‘<em>dark</em>’ creatures, so a Grimm would be quite on brand for him. Besides, this particular animal seems very friendly and well–behaved anyway. Hagrid was especially delighted, since another dog on the grounds meant Fang would have someone to play with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On weekends, Remus often took his dog—<em>Padfoot</em>—to Hogsmeade, where he met up with his husband, <em>Sirius</em>. Most of the student population took this in their stride, with the students occasionally asking how Sirius was doing (mostly to procrastinate doing their work, because Remus was always up for a chat about how much he loved his husband, or more often, how much of a dumbass his husband was). Somehow, no one noticed that Padfoot and Sirius were never present at the same time, nor that their eyes were identical colours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At meals, Sirius tended to go absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>crazy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, running around the hall and begging for scraps. The Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables gave him the most food, although Gryffindor liked to throw the food in the air for him to catch. Luna liked to give him all sorts of weird food combinations, so he tended to avoid the Ravenclaw table. The Slytherin table was hit and miss—although he’d never admit it, Remus saw Draco slip a few rashers of bacon to Padfoot when his friends weren’t looking. Some of the older Slytherins liked to see what tricks he’d do, and Padfoot was happy to oblige. Remus smiled as he saw more and more students attend mealtimes, even if they ate less than they should, just to see Padfoot—and Padfoot always made a special effort to go and say hi to whichever students Remus mentioned were having a hard time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The staff tended to look on amusedly, except Snape, who glowered as Padfoot ran around the hall, likely recognising the Animagus from their Hogwarts days, but not having any proof.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first morning, Minerva had slid into the seat next to Remus, and asked, as Padfoot stole a sausage from Remus’ plate, “what did you say Sirius’ Animagus was again, Remus?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus coughed. “Erm... a dog?” He answered slowly, scratching Padfoot behind his ears while he sniffed hopefully at Remus’ plate. </span>
</p><p><span>“</span><em><span>Interesting</span></em><span>.” Minerva mused, “And how does he feel about this...</span><em><span>stray</span></em> <em><span>dog </span></em><span>you adopted just as his name was cleared?”</span></p><p>
  <span>Remus spluttered, giving Padfoot the opportunity he needed to steal a rasher of bacon, before sneaking off to go harass the students. Minerva gave him a hearty thump on the back as he passed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, well, Sirius doesn’t seem the jealous type, anyway. Do say hi to him from me, won’t you?” She winked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep. I will. Say hi.” Remus said weakly, smiling as he saw Padfoot rest his head in Harry’s lap, only moving to eat whatever food was provided. He leaned back in his chair, watching them—</span>
  <em>
    <span>his family—</span>
  </em>
  <span>interact with the other students.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>C: EPILOGUE</strong>
</p>
<p>Sirius smiled fondly when Harry barged into Remus’ quarters, effectively disrupting a <em>very</em> heated snogging session, to Remus’ dismay. Harry’s face was lit up with a massive smile as he quizzed Sirius even more about his house—what was it like? Did he have a house elf? What do wizards use instead of refrigerators? Why was it called <em> ‘Grimmauld Place’— </em> why would you name your house <em> ‘grim old place?’ </em> (“<em>T</em><em>hat’s just the name of the street, Harry.”) </em></p>
<p>Sirius answered the questions as honestly as he could, even as anxiety ran rampant in his brain—surely Harry would <em> hate </em>the dusty old townhouse once he saw it. Sirius knew the extent of Harry’s abuse, but he couldn’t imagine that he’d want to stay in such a dark, awful house—even if he was doing it just to be polite.</p>
<p>“Harry, are you <em> sure </em> that you don’t want to take the train with your friends?” Remus asked, and Sirius rubbed his thumb over Remus’ knuckles as he heard the tremor in his voice. </p>
<p>“<em>Y</em><em>es</em>, I’m sure. You guys said that I’d be able to see them over the holidays, yeah? They won’t miss me for one train ride—besides, I’ve never apparated before, so why not? </p>
<p>“Alright, pup. If you’re <em> sure </em> ,” Remus agreed, “though, just a warning—side-along apparition is <em> far </em> less fun than regular apparition.”</p>
<p>Harry nodded, and Remus drew his wand to shrink their luggage, adding a Feather-light charm first so he could easily pocket it. </p>
<p>“Well, if everyone’s ready,” he said, holding the door open for Harry and Sirius and they headed to the apparition point just outside the Hogwarts grounds. Sirius waved to Professor McGonagall on their way out—Sirius was <em> ‘visiting’ </em> to <em> ‘help Remus pack’— </em>though Remus was sure she’d seen right through the excuse.</p>
<p>“Ready, Harry?” Remus waited for him to nod before taking both Harry and Sirius’ hands and twisting on the spot. Sirius shut his eyes tightly, as he felt the unpleasant squeezing sensation dragging him from one place to the next, and suddenly he was standing in front of his childhood home. He felt a lump building in the back of his throat—he hadn’t returned home since he ran away in fifth year. There were so many horrible memories here, and so few good ones. He swallowed the lump, letting a genuine smile spread across his face. He shouldn’t be living in the past—he, Remus, and Harry would make new memories here, and at some point, they’d renovate the entire house, too. Remus was taking at least the next year off teaching too, for he couldn’t bear to spend another minute apart from Sirius (or, so he’d said.)</p>
<p>Despite all of this, his muscles still tensed as they walked through the door. It was as if the corridor had been preserved in time—sure, some of the housekeeping spells had worn off after twelve years, leaving a thick layer of dust, but everything else was the same—the cursed torch brackets, the troll-leg umbrella stand, the grandfather clock that shot bolts at anyone who passed by.</p>
<p>The only new addition was an ugly-as-life portrait of his mother, who’d woken up as soon as he’d shut the front door behind him. She rubbed her eyes, blinking blearily, until her vision focused on her estranged son. There was a split-second of silence—and then she opened her mouth, letting out the most hideous screech she could muster. It was amazing, really, in a horrifying way. Whoever they’d commissioned for the portrait had done an <em> amazing </em>job—Portrait-Walburga was a perfect replica of the real-world equivalent.</p>
<p>“<em>YOU!</em> HOW <em>DARE </em>YOU BRING SUCH <em>FILTH </em>INTO THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS? YOU ARE NOTHING BUT A FILTHY STAIN OF DISHONOR—” Sirius stared at the portrait in shock, rooted to the spot. Suddenly, he was a teenager again, enduring her screaming fits and hexes while counting down the days until he could return to Hogwarts. He could almost feel the hexes burning on his skin, the <em>crucio </em>rippling through his muscles—</p>
<p>“—YOU <em> VILE </em> BLOOD-TRAITOR, BRINGING FREAKS AND MUTANTS INTO <em> MY HOME, </em> BEGONE! I OUGHT TO—”</p>
<p>She was abruptly cut off when Remus shot a silencing spell at her. Portrait-Walburga didn’t seem to notice; she continued to open and close her mouth, screaming furiously, but once again, the house was silent.</p>
<p>Sirius shook his head. He didn’t know how he could have possibly <em> fathomed </em> the idea of them building a life here—really, he should just get out of there—after he grabbed the few things of James’ that he knew still lingered in his room. He’d give those to Harry. </p>
<p>Sirius rubbed the back of his neck and deliberately stared down the dark corridor as he spoke. “Listen, it’s—it’s awful, I know. It’s really dark and dreary, and you probably hate it, but it’ll just be until I can get some money out of my vault, and this place will probably make a decent amount of money if we sell—”</p>
<p>His words cut off when he felt a small hand wrap around his wrist, and Sirius looked down nervously at Harry. He was surprised to not see a trace of disgust on his face, but rather a child-like look of wonder as he looked at the house, then the still-screaming portrait, then back Sirius. He <em> was </em> a child, Sirius remembered. That was easy to forget when Harry acted so mature for his age.</p>
<p>A grin spread across his face, even as he examined the moth-eaten curtains hanging around the portrait. “It’s brilliant.”</p>
<p>“I—<em> what? </em> It’s <em> dark </em> and <em> horrible </em>and covered in a thick layer of dust—we could find a much nicer house somewhere else—anywhere you’d like.”</p>
<p>Harry shook his head. “It’s still brilliant,” he paused. “Erm, I know you probably didn’t have the best of times here—like me, at the Dursleys’,” Sirius’ eyes widened in surprise, but Harry smiled nervously. “I can tell from your body language.” Sirius shook his head, but motioned for Harry to carry on. “I’d like to stay here if it’s okay with you—I mean, this is a <em> Wizarding house</em>, how cool is that? But— <em> where </em> we live doesn’t matter, right? We could live here, or Hogwarts, or in a bloody <em> tent—” </em></p>
<p>“Language, Harry,” Remus elbowed him, though he was smiling.</p>
<p>Harry rolled his eyes, giggling, before continuing. “It doesn’t matter, as long as we’re together, right? That we’re with the people we care about.”</p>
<p>Sirius blinked back the tears that had gathered in his eyes. <em> Harry cares about me. </em> Even in the darkness of Grimmauld Place, his chest burst with happiness. Harry was right—anywhere felt like home when you’re with the people you love. “Really?” Sirius asked him, “you truly want to live <em> here </em>?”</p>
<p>Harry nodded, brandishing his pinky finger at Sirius. “I pinky promise.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello! It is I, Huffinglepuff! I’ve pretty much let defectivetalos take over the posting stuff bc a) it’s going on her instagram and Wattpad and b) I am ~Lazy~</p>
<p>Anyway, the reason I’m here is because I just wanted to say this I you all for your wonderful comments and kudos! I know I don’t reply to them all (I think I’ve replied to like...5? That’s bad oopsies) but I read every single one and they bring a lil warmth to my heart. So...yeah! Cheers and all that (ugh idk how to sign stuff off) love y’all &lt;3</p>
<p>-------</p>
<p>A/N from defectivetalos</p>
<p>Tysm for all of your nice comments and encouragements &lt;3 we have a sequel tentatively planned, but our classes are starting soon and we're both already working on other fics, lol </p>
<p>Thank you for reading and keeping up with this fic!!!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The original tumblr account (forget-me-or-not) seems to be deleted, but here's a link to a reblog:<br/>https://teacupswhiskey.tumblr.com/post/118281502822/forget-me-or-not-remus-lupin-noticing-scars-on</p></blockquote></div></div>
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